The Dissonant
by AEMI
Summary: The history of the Avari, covering 4 periods, from the awakening till the sailing of the Last Ship. (Has appeared before, extremely slow work in progress!)
1. To follow another Song

Chapter 1. To follow another Song.

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' There was Eru, the one, who in Arda is called Iluvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made (…) and it came to pass that Iluvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme (…) then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs and like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the theme of Iluvatar to a great music (…) but as the Theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matter of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Iluvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and the glory of the part assigned to himself.

(…) Then Iluvatar arose and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm (…) but the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it (…) then again Iluvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted his right hand and behold! A third theme grew amid the confusion (…) And it seemed at last there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Iluvatar, and they were utterly at variance. (…) Iluvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised up both his hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as the light of the eye of Iluvatar, the Music ceased.

Then Iluvatar spoke, and he said: " Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Iluvatar (…) and Thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme can be played that had not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined." '

From: _Ainulindalë_

Th wind whistled through the reeds and the grasses, and rippled the waters of the great lake. One by one the stars were lit: like thousands upon thousands of diamonds they shone down upon the Sleepers.

And they awoke.

They woke with starlight in their eyes and the sound of water falling on stone in their ears, and they would love both above all things ever after. Fair they were, the newly awakened: they walked about the shores of the lake, in silence still, a pale glowing light shimmering all around them. Their hair was like spun gold, or woven silver, or polished jet, and their eyes of myriad shades of gray shone too with an inner light that could not be quenched. 

Silently they dwelt first, marvelling at the beauty of the world, but it was not long before they learnt to imitate the sound of running water that they loved, and use that sound to give meaning to all that surrounded them. 

And thus they began to make speech and give names to what they perceived. Their birthplace they called Cuiviénen, the Lake of Awakening, and themselves they named the Quendi, signifying those that speak with voices. Each other too they gave names: Ingwë and Finwë, and the brethren (so called because they awoke in a single moment) Elwë, Olwë and Elmö, and many more, male and female, whose names have not been all been recorded in History. And as time passed they grew in number, though no longer by Awakening, but in that they took each other as man and wife, and had children. In those days, they did not know that they were not alone in the world. They knew nothing of Iluvatar, or the Ainur, nor of Melkor's revolt, nor of Valinor and the Trees.

And on a time it chanced that Oromë of the Valar rode eastward in his hunting, for he would ride at whiles in the darkness of the unlit forests; with spear and bow, pursuing to the death the monsters and fell creatures of the kingdom of Melkor. And he turned North by the shores of Helcar and passed under the shadows of the Orocani, the Mountains of the East, and his white horse Nahar shone like silver in the shadow. The sleeping earth trembled at the beat of his golden hooves, and in the twilight of the world Oromë sounded the Valaroma his great horn upon the plains of Arda; whereat the mountains echoed and the shadows of Evil fled away, and Melkor himself quailed in Utumno, foreboding the wrath to come. 

Then on a sudden Nahar set up a great neighing, and stood still. 

And Oromë wondered and sat silent, and it seemed to him that in the quiet of the land under the stars he heard afar off many voices singing.

Thus it was that the Valar found at last, as it were by chance, those whom they had so long awaited.

Oromë went forth eagerly, and among the trees he perceived for the first time the Elder Children of Iluvatar, tall and fair and merry, as they laughed and danced in circles on the green grass of a large clearing, adding their own voices to the music of many instruments.

So eager was he to meet and speak with them that he urged Nahar onwards, and out the great horse stepped, into their midst. 

Their reaction was one of fear: all dance and music ceased; some screamed, and many fled, filled with dread.

This was the doing of Melkor: he had already been aware of the awakening of the Quendi, and sent shadows and evil spirits to spy upon them and waylay them. So it had come to pass, some years ere the coming of Oromë, that if any of the Elves strayed far abroad, alone or few together, they would often vanish, and never return; and the Quendi said that the Hunter had caught them, and they were afraid. Indeed for many years afterward their songs told of shadow-shapes that walked in the hills above Cuiviénen, or would pass suddenly over the stars; and of the dark Rider upon his wild Horse that pursued those that wandered to take them and devour them.

And so they fled, believing the dark Hunter had come upon them, and hid themselves: this was Melkor's purpose: that they should shun Oromë if ever they should meet.

Yet those that had courage stayed, and drew closer, perceiving that there was a light in the Rider's face that was unlike any they had seen, and could not be on a shape of Darkness.

They marvelled at this, and whispered amongst themselves, and Nahar neighed again. The timorous drew back, but Oromë laughed, and dismounted, and went among them smilingly, and he too was filled with wonder, as though they were beings sudden and marvellous and unforeseen. 

Here and there in the grass lay scattered the instruments some of the flyers had dropped: crudely fashioned still, for being new to Arda they had but basic skills in making things, and were learning still, by trial and error. 

Yet for all that they had made the most beautiful music with it. 

Oromë bend down to pick one up: reed pipes, of different length, in a double row, bound together with grass.

But before his hand could touch it, a voice spoke up from among the Elves:

"No."

In later days, none who remained of those that were present would admit that that was the first word spoken by a Quendi to a Vala, save the one that spoke it. Out of the circle of Eldar stepped a proud, slender figure, smaller than the others: a she-elf, clad in long robes of leather tanned so fine that they glowed pale in the starlight, 

dark hair braided in many thin tresses interwoven with tiny niphredil flowers falling down her back.

Her bare feet made no imprint in the grass as she strode up to the Huntsman, and her eyes of deepest grey, so deep that they were almost black shone fiercely and unafraid into his own.

"No. That is my brother's pipes, and I will not suffer anyone else to touch it."

A slight frown like a sudden stormcloud passed over Oromë's face: never before in his existence had he been denied. The Elves saw his frown, and shuddered, fearing his wrath. Yet the cloud passed as quickly as it had come, and he smiled at her again.

"Your brother fled. Am I that fearsome then?"

They were amazed then that he spoke their tongue, and indeed in that he spoke at all, for as yet they had met no other living thing that spoke.

She answered his words, but not his smile: "Should I not be afeared? Many of our folk have been taken by a Hunter such as you, or so we deem, for he roams the hills and is sometimes seen from afar, but never close: are you he?"

Once more the fearful drew back, for what being of such obvious power and majesty would be spoken to in so bold a manner and not be angered? Another Elf stepped forward: goldenhaired Ingwë, and he berated her:

"Surely you can see that this is no creature of Darkness? You should be glad and welcome the fair and mighty one, for verily we are blessed that we may have the company of other Living Beings that Speak."

"I would welcome his company," she replied, unabashed, "But not that of his weapons, not until I know against whom he carries them. And indeed I would know for how long he has studied us at unawares, that he can speak our tongue so fluently. As we devised it ourselves, it seems impossible to me that a stranger to us has mastered it in but a few moments."

"As to that," said Oromë, "I am an Arata, one of the Nine of the Valar that are Ainur come to Eä, sprung from the very thought of Eru, the One, and had my part in the making of this world, though not of you, for that Power rests with Eru alone. Yet I beheld you in the Vision, and heard your Song in the Music of Making, and my own power is such that truly I can understand your tongue and speak it, though I have never heard nor spoken it before. As for my bow and spear: be assured that they are meant for the very monsters and fell beasts that you fear."

At that, the Elves cried out in many glad voices in relief, and laughed, and sang songs in praise of the Valar and the Ainur, and the One, though as yet they knew but little of them. And in turn Oromë told them many tales of the making of Arda and the Beginning of Days.

Yet the she-elf did not cry out, or laughed, or sang, but merely picked up the pipes and went in search of her brother. She called for him in the woods and on the shores of Cuiviénen, and even went into the hills, despite the danger. But he never answered, and with many others was lost forever. When all others who searched with her had given up hope already, she continued calling her brother's name, heedless of whom or what might hear. 

Yet in the end she too had to bow to the inevitable, and acknowledge his loss. And she sank to her knees and wept, long and grievously, and her fellows knew not how to comfort her. Then after a time she rose and passed her hands over her face, throwing back the tresses in which the nephridil flowers were now withered and brown.

"Now I have mourned: now I shall go to this Oromë, and listen to what he has to say, and ask what he proposes to do about the disappearance of our kin. And we shall see what we shall see."

Then she took off the robes she had worn for merrymaking, and put on rough hunting garb, and on her belt she hung a flint knife: sharp and deadly. Her followers did likewise, and their faces were set grim but determined, for all had lost loved ones with the coming of the Vala. Though they did not go so far as to blame him entirely for this, they did perceive it so that he was responsible for their people taking fright and fleeing, and that the aid of a powerful being (as he had professed himself to be) would be welcome in preventing further losses, or perhaps even in going forth and seek out the Dark Huntsman, and save their kinsmen from his clutches, if they were still alive, and if not, avenge them. 

They came upon the Vala in the very clearing were they had first laid eyes on him, and many Quendi were there with him: Ingwë and Finwë, Elwë and Olwë and even Elmö. All sat or stood upon the grass in rapt silence and attention as they listened to Oromë tell of the Great among the Ainur, that are the Valar: 

"The Lords of the Valar are seven, and the Valier, the Queens of the Valar, are seven also.

Manwë was appointed the first of all Kings: in Arda his delight is in the winds and the clouds, and in all the regions of the air, from the heights to the depths, from the utmost borders of the Veil of Arda to the breezes that blow in the grass. All swift birds, strong of wing, he loves and they come and go at his bidding. 

With Manwë dwells Varda, lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä: in light is her power and joy, and it is she who wrought the stars that you love. Manwë and Varda are seldom parted: they fulfil each other. 

Their halls are above the everlasting snow, upon Oïolossë, the uttermost tower of Taniquetil, tallest of all mountains upon Earth.

Ulmo is lord of the Water. He is alone. He dwells nowhere long, but moves as he will in all the deep waters about or under the Earth. He is next in might to Manwë, and closest to him in friendship. All seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and springs are in his government: thus news comes to Ulmo, even in the deeps, of all the needs and griefs of Arda, which otherwise would be hidden from Manwë."

"So!" the she-elf cried, "Then your kind must have known of our pain, even before you came, for often have we sat on the banks of Cuiviénen lamenting those that were taken from us by the Dark One: even now have we cried the names of those who did not return over its still waters. Will not the mighty Valar come to our aid? Have you been send to the rescue of our kin?"

Oromë looked upon her pityingly, and said: "Nay, for though we knew that your Awakening was near, we knew not where nor when it would come to pass, and it was by chance that I came upon you, or so it seems."

"Ah. So. Then the Mighty Valar are not as all-seeing, all-hearing, all-knowing as you would have us believe, for our Awakening occurred already long ago, at least, long enough for us to devise speech, have children, and for our children to grow to full waxdom and have children of their own in turn, that are full-grown. Be that as it may, it is your help we need most of all."

"And you shall have it, in counsel and learning, that you may prosper and grow in wisdom. From Aulë you shall learn, for he is a smith and master of all crafts, and he delights in works of skill. His are the gems that lie deep in the Earth and gold that is fair in the hand. In might he is little less than Ulmo. His spouse is Yavanna, the Giver of Fruits. She is the lover of all things that grow in the Earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in the forests to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mould.

She…"

"That is not what I asked for!" interrupted the she-elf, "Those things are fair to be sure, and surely will be welcome, but not our most immediate need. Nor are they so strange that we may not come at it by ourselves. Why, did we not teach ourselves speech? Did we not discover _by ourselves _ how to make fire, and learn to sharpen flint rock to knives, and spear-and arrowheads, and hunt animals for food and clothing? And did we not find out which roots and berries were good to eat, and which were not? And how to collect the seeds of certain grasses, and crush them to meal and from it bake bread? Did we not without anyone's help or instruction make instruments like this pipes, for our delight and merriment?"

And she held out her brother's pipes, which she carried with her on a thong round her neck.

"We do not ask for your many crafts, only for our loved ones back! My brother is the most precious of gems to me. I wish for no gold but his hand in mine, as we were at our awakening, and for the sound of his voice, and the music of his pipes."

Again she had defied the Vala, and yet again he frowned at her. 

There was much angry shouting too from her kinsmen who had been listening to his tales, and already loved and revered the Valar: of these, Ingwë and Fingwë were the chiefs, and Olwë; but Elwë and Elmö kept their peace, while their kin rebuked her with stern words, which she listened to unmoved. And when they had finished, she turned to Oromë a third time, and asked: " If you will not help in deeds, at least tell us what may have befallen our lost ones, and what this Dark Force is that took them from us, that we may have some idea what we are up against, for I am determined to rescue my kin!"

Now Oromë looked upon her with sorrow, and spoke gravely: " That you had better not attempt, for though you are valiant you will not succeed against the might of Melkor! He and Manwë are brethren, and he was the mightiest of the Ainur, but Manwë is dearest to Eru, the One. In the fashioning of Arda the chief part was undertaken by Manwë and Aulë and Ulmo; but Melkor too was there from the first, and he meddled in all that was done, turning it if he might to his own desires and purposes. When he took visible form, the malice that came by envy that burned in him caused that form to be dark and terrible, and there was War between us, for he sought to rule the Earth, and were we build lands he destroyed them; valleys did we delve, and he raised them up; mountains we carved, and he threw them down; seas we hollowed, and he spilled them; and naught might have peace or come to lasting growth, for as surely as we began a labour so he would undo it or corrupt it. For he covets Arda and all that is in it, desiring the Kingship of Manwë and dominion over our realms. From splendour he fell through arrogance to contempt for all things save himself, a spirit wasteful and pitiless. Understanding he turned to subtlety in perverting to his own will all that he would use, until he became a liar without shame. He began with the desire of light, but when he could not posses it for himself alone, he descended through fire and wrath into a great burning, down into Darkness, and Darkness he uses most in his evil works upon Arda."

The Elves cried out at this and some fell upon the ground trembling in fear and covered their ears, and wrung their hands at the Vala, begging him to stop. Yet he went on relentlessly:

"And so it is that he holds Dominion over most of the lands of Earth, for he is not alone: of the Maiar, our servants and helpers, many were drawn to his splendour in the days of his greatness, and remained in that allegiance down into his darkness; and others he corrupted afterwards to his service with lies and treacherous gifts. When we still dwelt in Middle Earth he brought war upon us, and though by the might of Tulkas the Strong we were able to drive him back, our dwellingplace was utterly destroyed, and we departed to the land of Aman, the westernmost of all lands upon the borders of the world. And there we raised the Pelori, the mountains of Aman, highest upon Earth, which protect Valinor. Yet we forsake not in our thoughts the Outer Lands.

Ulmo is ever wandering here, and so are many of his spirits. Yavanna too is unwilling to utterly abandon Middle Earth, and she at times will come to heal the hurts of Melkor, and is forever urging the Valar to make war against his evil dominion, as surely we should have waged ere you awoke, and assuredly we shall."

This brought hope to the hearts of the Elves, and they cried out their gladness; but the she-elf insisted: " What of our lost kin?"

Again Oromë looked at her with pity:" Of those unhappy ones who are ensnared by Melkor little is known of a certainty. For who of the living has descended into the pit of Utumno, or has espied the Darkness of the counsels of Melkor?"

Then the she-elf threw back her head and keened: a soul-rending wordless cry of grief that pierced the hearts of many an Elf. Oromë too was moved, and spoke words of comfort, and vowed that he would hunt the foul creatures of Melkor till they had vanished from the Earth, and his power broken. 

She stared at him in silence for a while, and her eyes grew hard.

"You say that none has descended into the pit of Utumno. There will be one who shall." 

And she drew her knife.

A great cry sprung from the lips of the Elves that were friendly to Oromë, and Ingwë and Finwë threw themselves as living shields in front of the Vala, fearing she would do him some mischief.

She looked upon them with contempt. 

"Faithless ones! Is this how you show your love? Were we not friends? Were we not the First, did we not dwell together for many a season? Do you not know me? What exactly do you deem me capable of, me, your kinswoman, your friend! As my brother was your friend. Yet I see your love has turned away from us and been bestowed upon this Stranger, whom now you trust more than I. So be it." 

And she drew the knife across the palm of her left hand: bright drops of red Elven blood fell upon the greensward. 

"By this my Blood, I swear I shall not return till I know what befell Iluve my brother, whom I loved above life, yea, though I may fall into Darkness myself."

A cold wind blew as she spoke these words: now Oromë rose in anger, and was dreadful to behold.

"You have spoken your own Doom!"

"Perhaps. Yet it is my Doom, and mine alone. And this I say also: my people have known hardship, and have lived in fear of the darkness, but still they were free. Touch not upon that freedom, for in the end ill it will befall you."

And she sped away, and to the grief of Oromë and the Quendi, many followed her, and among them was Elmö.

She led them back to the shores of Cuiviénen, and turned northwards.

"There!" she cried, as she pointed ahead, "There in the North lies the Dark Land were our kin are held! There I shall go. But none shall follow me: it is enough that my brother suffers at the hands of the Evil One: I will not have harm come to any of you on my account."

Then Elmö spoke: "Do you think yourself to be alone in suffering the loss of a loved one? All of us do so. We cannot forsake you anymore than we can them. I have not forgotten my friendship with Iluve, or with you!"

Her grave countenance softened then, and she took his hands gently in hers.

"Stay you must though, for alone I stand a better chance, and what is more: I count on you to keep alive the free spirit of our people! To everyone of you I say this: from the Vala we have learnt that we are come from song, and that that Song was set in the mind of Eru from the Beginning of Days, and that there is no escape from it.

That may be so, but ever should we strive to follow another Song: our own! Farewell!"

Thus she set forth: and her name is not mentioned in Eldar history, for her people were forever sundered from the other Quendi. Avari, they were called in later days, the Unwilling, or Dark Elves: when the Summons of the Valar came they refused to go to Aman. Their land became barbarous with Dark Powers and evil races, and they dwindled and hid themselves. They lived always close to the wooded land, built no cities, and had no kings.

As for Elmö: long did he stand by the waters of Cuiviénen, and stared out to the North. Then he opened his hands that all this time he held clenched, and there was dried blood on it. 

"Oh my dear friend, I fear your Doom has fallen on me also. I would have followed you, if you would have let me: but your words are wise. And I know that one day you will return. To that day I must prepare. For I have brothers also, whom I love; nor will I have their hearts set against you. Our people were one and undivided: so should it ever be. I do not know if I can mend this sundering, for words were spoken that cannot be unsaid; yet the love we once held for each other should prevail. To that end I pledge my life. Have no fear: we that were First shall be together again in joy and love: Ingwë, Fingwë, Elwë and Olwë and I… and Iluve too, and you, fair Ilwë."

To be continued. 

The above owes much (textually and otherwise) to 'The Silmarillion' and to David Day's 'Tolkien: The Illustrated Encyclopaedia.' All characters except Iluve and Ilwë are Tolkien's.


	2. Into Darkness Bound

Chapter 2. Into Darkness Bound

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'Last of all is set the name of Melkor, 'He who arises in Might'. But that name he has forfeited; and the Noldor who among the Elves suffered most from his malice will not utter it, and they name him Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World. Great might was given to him by Iluvatar, and he was coeval with Manwë. In the power and knowledge of all the other Valar he had a part, but he turned them to evil purposes, and squandered his strength in violence and tyranny.'

From: Valaquenta; of the Enemies.

'Now Melkor began the delving and building of a vast fortress, deep under the Earth beneath the dark mountains where the beams of Iluin were cold and dim. That stronghold was named Utumno.'

From: Quenta Silmarillion.

There were fens: rank and poisonous, breeding place of flies, where green things fell sick and rotted; and rivers choked with weeds and slime; forests dark and perilous, where beasts were monsters of horn and ivory and the earth was dyed red with blood. 

Among the least of these were the Gorcrows, an evil breed of carrionbird, who lived alongside cannibal spirits: the Mewlips, the remains of whose prey they devoured.

Gigantic spiders wove their webs from dead to dying tree like hanging growths or tentacles, spreading a foul reek as if a filth unnameable were piled and hoarded in the dark. Their many-facetted eyes glittered with a pale and deadly fire kindled in the deepest pits of Melkor's evil thoughts: monstrous and abominable, bestial, yet filled with purpose and hideous delight. Great horns they had, and bodies like vast bloated bags swaying and sagging between their legs that were bent with great knobbed joints high above their back, covered with hair that stuck out like steel pikes, and at each leg there was a claw.

She had slain one already; slashing open the pale luminous underbelly with her flint knife had brought forth a stream of poison frothing and bubbling from the wound. She had withdrawn quickly and fled, leaving the wounded spider to be sucked dry and eaten by her own sisters. These were cowardly creatures, despite their malice: their eyes were their vulnerable spot, and she swiftly learned that if she sent her sharp arrows flying at them, they would run, and trouble her not.

Far more worrisome were the bloodsucking bats that fell upon her at unawares and were too fast and too agile for her arrows; all she could do was lash out with her knife, maiming their wings, so that they could fly no longer and fell impotent into the foul water, and the Mewlips fed.

There was another creature dwelling there that filled her with dread: a huge, many tentacled being, luminous and green and spreading a vile stench. She had only seen it from afar, as it grappled with a giant spider, yet that was enough to know that she would not be able to escape, let alone vanquish it, should it ever come upon her.

She is afraid, but she will not let fear be her master: if she does, she knows it will overcome her and all will be lost.

Iluvé will be lost.

She touches the pipes she wears ever on her breast: Iluvé's pipes.

And remembers how they were made.

They had been sitting by the lake, where the yellow flowers bloomed and the wind blew in the long reeds and rushes.

"I wish I could make a sound as of the wind" she had sighed, " So soft and gently soothing."

"Perhaps you can." he had answered, and had broken off a reed. "Maybe if you blew on it?" 

But all the sound he had produced was the sputtering of his own breath, and she had laughed.

He had turned the reed over and over in his hands, thoughtfully.

"What if you blew in it?"

"Is it hollow then?"

"I could make it so."

And with deft fingers and endless patience he had hollowed the reed. Putting it full to his mouth had not produced the desired effect either, but when he had held it upright, and pursed his lips, and blown gently downwards, there came a sound of such loveliness neither of them had heard before.

It had drawn the attention of other Elves, and they had listened spellbound, and too had broken off reeds, hollowing them. Wonderful tones they had made then, blowing their reeds in turn, and thus Iluvé had discovered that the sound changed in reeds of different length and size. He had bound some together, in a row, going from long to short, and so had made his first pipes.

"Now you shall hear the music of the reeds." 

And he had played, and though many were there to listen and marvel at his tunes, he had played for her alone.

She smiled at the memory.

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"You shall play again, my brother."

And she went on, heedless of the dangers lurking in the slimy depths and the rotting trees.

Sometimes in the stillness of her heart she longed for the green-gray banks of Cuiviénen, under the eternal twilight of the Stars. Here, the only green was the scum of lurid weed on the dark greasy surface of the sullen water. Yet there came and end to it: the low marshes ran to higher ground, and thence to mountains.

Tall and dark they were, sharp like teeth, rows upon rows of broken peaks and barren ridges, grey as ash. 

A bitter wind blew through them.

Long did she search for a way through: a pass, a cleft, a single path up and over, yet there was none: like a sheer wall of stark forbidding rock they stood, defying her strength and stamina.

She began to climb.

Up and up and up she went, sometimes crawling on all fours, bend against the wind, like an animal, or groping for hand and footholds hanging on to sheer upward cliffs, until her nails broke and her fingers bled; still she went on, though she often had to retrace her steps to find another passage. At times, boulders came galloping down the slopes, or there was a load of shingle that shifted underfoot or was let loose by the elements, harrying her from all sides. There were thunderstorms, with lightning splintering on the peaks, and shivering rock, and great crashes splitting the air to go rolling and tumbling onto every cave and hollow, and the darkness was filled with overwhelming noise and sudden light. There came an icy wind and a rain, and the wind whipped the rain into hail and into every direction, so that it became nigh on impossible to continue, yet there was no shelter save in caves and chasms, and these were even more terrifying than the storms, for out of their deep dark recesses came a tap-tom-tom-tap-tap-tap-tom clanging noise, that echoed and died, echoed and died and came back again, almost as if it were calling her.

And in a sense it was: the Enemy dwelt deep down inside and under these mountains, she knew: the one who had taken her brother and many others besides. The sound was as much as a call, or a challenge.

She decided not to ignore it.

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"Iluvé, my brother, hear my soul cry out to thine: it is I, Ilwë, thy sister: I come. Have no fear, Iluvé: we shall be together again."

She took a step into the darkness. And another, and then another.

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"Iluvé, can'st thou hear me? I am coming, my brother, I am coming!"

Down she went, deep down and further still, and her own glow alone illuminated her way, yet there was no way, rather a succession of high vaulted clammy caverns, with sharp stalagmites and stalactites like teeth growing to meet each other, and a drip-drop-drip of water; and wide chasms she for all her elven agility found hard to cross; and narrow passages she had to slither through on her belly, like a worm. 

Through nooks and crannies at times poisonous fumes would burst, filling what little space there was, and she all but suffocated. It also became most unbearably hot. From the depths lights could now be seen, as of great fires, and indeed out of the fissures left and right at intervals a red glare would come, now leaping up, now dying down into darkness, as of flames; and all the while far below there was a rumour and a trouble, a throbbing, labouring sound.

At the last she came to the very bottom, where crawling along one of the clefts she found herself on a narrow ledge, and there before her was a vast cavern, were clouds of smoke swirled among buttresses and battlements, tall as hills, towering above immeasurable pits of boiling fire and rock, great courts and gaping gates of steel and adamant that led to further fortresses of black stone; and there in-between hideous creatures flew or walked or crawled. There were great forges; though she had no knowledge of such things, she recognised the making of fell weapons: large doublehanded swords, serrated blades, twin-headed axes and black, snake-like knives; helmets with visors that were masks of terror, coats of mail and breastplates, all of which she had no words for, yet she realised that such would be wielded and worn, and wondered by what kind of being.

Then she saw them: hideously stunted forms: bent, bowlegged and squat. Their arms were long and strong, their skin black as wood that had been charred by flame. The jagged fangs in their wide mouths were yellow, their tongues red and thick and lolling, their nostrils wide and their faces broad and flat and their eyes were crimson gashes like hot burning coals. One by one they spawned forth from the pits, driven on by even more fearsome creatures still: huge and hulking with streaming manes of fire, and nostrils that breathed flame.

They seemed to move with clouds of black shadows, and their limbs coiled rather than moved; in their clawlike hands they held many thonged whips of fire that snapped and cracked and beat the backs of the creatures from the pits.

She saw all of this; but more than that she felt, as palpable as the heat and the smoke and the fumes, the hate, the pain and the fear. The foul creatures hated each other and hated and feared those that drove them, and all hated and feared the Master of them all; the one the Vala had named: Melkor.

She could sense his presence everywhere: the blackened soil, the sullen water, even the very rock cried out his Evil.

A great anger rose within her. 

__

"And this the Valar allow? They who claim to have made Earth, Water, Sky and the Stars Above were incapable of preventing this? Yet they are aware of it, that Oromë knew of the existence of this place, he named it even: Utumno… and they did nothing?"

In this she was mistaken. For though Oromë had tarried awhile among the Quendi, he had swiftly ridden back over land and sea to Valinor to bring the tidings of the Awakening; and he spoke of the shadows that troubled Cuiviénen. Then the Valar rejoiced; and yet they were in doubt amid their joy; and they debated long what counsel it were best to take for the guarding of the Quendi from the shadow of Melkor. 

Manwë sought the counsel of Iluvatar, then summoned the Valar to the Ring of Doom, and thither came even Ulmo from the Outer Sea.

Then Manwë said to the Valar: "This is the counsel of Iluvatar in my heart: that we should take up again the mastery of Arda, at whatsoever cost, and deliver the Quendi."

And the Valar made ready and came forth from Aman in strength of war to assault the fortresses of Melkor, and make an end. 

Ilwë the she-elf did not know it, but the creatures she saw coming forth from the spawning pits were part of Melkor's great army, speed-bred to meet the forces of the Valar. For already there had been a great battle in the Northwest of Middle-Earth, and all that region was much broken. But the first victory of the Lords of the West was swift, and the servants of Melkor fled before them to Utumno. And at the very moment that Ilwë had entered the caverns of that vast fortress the Valar laid siege to it. 

Great was his wrath when this was made known to Melkor, and greater still when he heard of the losses he had suffered: and he called for greater numbers of fell creatures to be formed, and fresh blood to be brought into the breed. So from the dungeons and eyeless prisons of Utumno lamentable beings were brought forth: shapes twisted by pain and made into ruined and terrible forms of life; slow acts of cruelty having enslaved and corrupted them. And yet they were still recognisable, despite their mutilated bodies: they were Elves - or had been, once, when they were still free under the Stars over Cuiviénen. 

Chains were at their hands and feet, and they were held together by iron rods that were linked to steel bands round their necks. One by one was loosened and thrown screaming into a pit that bubbled and belched with a sickening stench. Then out of the pit crawled creatures such as she had seen before, yet these wore chains. 

And so she witnessed the vilest deed of Melkor: the changing of the fairest of the Children of Iluvatar into a foul, darkhearted race of beings, that loathed the Master whom they served in fear; the maker of their misery. 

And at the end of the line that was being driven to the pit, the very last to be thrown in wore a face she knew well: and his dear voice rang in her mind and ears as he fell, screaming her name. 

She cried out to him with all her being, and their souls touched briefly, oh so briefly, but when his body hit the slick surface of the pit's abominable contents, she felt no more.

__

Author's notes:

Parts of this chapter come out of LOTR and The Hobbit, as well as the Silmarillion and the Encyclopaedia


	3. Summons and Sundering

Chapter 3. Summons and Sundering.

__

'Never did Melkor forget that this war was made for the sake of the Elves, and that they were the cause of his downfall. Yet they had no part in those deeds and they know little of the riding of the Might of the West against the North in the beginning of their days (...) Then the Valar passed over Middle Earth and they set a guard over Cuiviénen, and hereafter the Quendi knew nothing of the great Battle of the Powers, save that the Earth shook and groaned beneath them, and the waters were moved, and in the North there were lights as of many fires. Long and grievous was the siege of Utumno, and many battles were fought before its gates of which naught but the rumour is known to the Elves (…) Then again the Valar were gathered in council, and they were divided in debate. For some, and of those Ulmo was the chief, held that the Quendi should be left free to walk as they would in Middle Earth (…) but the most feared for the Quendi in the dangerous world amid the deceits of the starlit dusk; and they were filled moreover with the love of the beauty of the Elves and desired their fellowship.

At the last, therefore, the Valar summoned the Quendi to Valinor, there to be gathered at the knees of the Powers in the light of the Trees for ever; and Mandos broke his silence, saying: "So it is doomed." 

From this summons came many woes that afterwards befell (…) Oromë was sent again to them (the Elves)_ and he chose from among them ambassadors who should go to Valinor; and these were Ingwë, Finwë and Elwë, who afterwards were Kings."_

From: Quenta Silmarillion; Of the Coming of the Elves

They had come from far and wide to hearken to the words of Three that had come back from Valinor. The news of their return had swiftly spread, and practically all the Quendi had gathered together. From deep out of the forests they had come, and from far upstream along the banks of the rivers that mouthed in Cuiviénen, and from the Lake itself, where many lived on rafts held close together with huts woven out of reeds for shelter upon them, like a floating, drifting city.

They sat and listened in spellbound silence.

First, Ingwë spoke, and his voice betrayed the awe he felt for the glory and majesty of the Valar, as he tried his best to describe them.

"Yavanna the Giver of Fruits goes in the form of a tall woman robed in green, but at times she will take other shapes, and can be seen like a tree with from all its branches spilling like a golden dew upon the bare earth, and it will grow green with corn. Truly she is Kementari, Queen of the Earth. When Valinor was full wrought, and the mansions of theValar were established, in the midst of the plain beyond the mountains they build their city, Valimar of the many bells. Before its western gate there is a green mound that Yavanna has hallowed, and upon it sang a song of power, so that from the mound came forth two slender shoots. Under her song the saplings grew and became fair and tall and came to flower: the Two Trees of Valinor."

He fell silent, overcome by the memory, and Elwë continued in his stead: 

"Oh, the beauty of the Trees, my friends, how shall I describe it? The one has leaves of dark green that beneath are as shining silver, and from each of his countless flowers a dew of silver light is ever falling, and the earth beneath is dappled with the shadows of his fluttering leaves. The other bears leaves of a young green like the new opened beech; their edges are a glittering gold. Flowers swing upon her branches in clusters of yellow flame, formed each to a glowing horn that spills a golden rain upon the ground; and from the blossom of that tree there comes forth warmth and a great light. Laurelin, it is called, and the other Telperion. The glory of each tree waxes and wanes, and one awakes to life before the other ceases to shine: so that there is a gentle time of softer light when both are faint and their gold and silver beams mingled. But the light that is spilled from the trees endures long, ere it is taken up into the airs or sinks down into the earth; and the dews of Telperion, the elder tree, and the rain that falls from Laurelin Varda hoards in great vats like shining lakes, that were to all the land of the Valar as wells of water and light. It is with these very waters that she made the stars bright. 

Fair are the trees, and fair is Valinor, but fairest of all are the gardens of Lorien, where the Vala Irmo rules, the younger of the Féanturi, whose brother is Mandos the Silent. Irmo is master of vision and dream, and his land is filled with many spirits. Lorien is a gentle, restful place filled with silver trees and multitudes of flowers. The water of its crystal fountains will refresh all visitors. In the midst of this most beautiful of gardens are the glimmering waters of Lake Lovellin, and in the midst of that Lake is an isle of tall trees and gentle mists, that is the home of Estë the Gentle, Irmo's spouse, healer of hurts and weariness."

Now Finwë spoke: " Fair are the Trees and the Gardens of Lorien, but for me I should speak more of Valimar, the home of the Valar. It is filled with white stone mansions, silver domes and golden spires. And the Bells! You have not heard music if you have not heard the music of its many gold and silver bells. Before its white walls and golden gate is Mahanaxar: the Ring of Doom, where the thrones of the Valar are set in a great Council Circle. It is there that they came to the decision to summon us to dwell by their side."

Ingwë fell in: "And then you shall see, oh my friends, true Power, Majesty and Beauty. Upon the highest whitest peak of the mountains, upon Taniquetil, is built Ilmarin, the mansion of the King and Queen of the Valar: Manwë and Varda. When Manwë there ascends his throne and looks forth, if Varda is beside him, he sees further than all other eyes through mist, and through darkness and over the leagues of the sea. And if Manwë is with her, Varda hears more clearly than all other ears the sound of voices that cry from east to west, from the dark places that Melkor has made upon Earth. 

With the Valar are other spirits of the same order but of lesser degree: these are the Maiar, the People of the Valar. Mightiest among them is Eonwë, the Herald of Manwë the Windlord. Then there is Ilmarë who throws down her beams of light from the sky: how oft have I seen these from here, and how oft have I wondered what these shooting stars were, and now I know! She is chief of the Maiar maids, and handmaiden to Varda, the Starqueen. And there are Ossë, Master of the Waves and Uinen, Lady of the Calms, his spouse, who are the servants of Ulmo: they shall be our guides as we cross the sea to Valimar."

All of this and much more beside did the three ambassadors speak of, and the hearts of many among the Quendi were won over. They began to sing of the long journey they were to make to that fair land where peace and happiness awaited them. 

Yet a great group remained silent throughout, and not until there was talk of dividing themselves into three hosts, the smallest to be the first to leave under the guidance of Ingwë, the next to be led by Fingwë, and the last and greatest host to be jointly led by Elwë and Olwë, that one of that number spoke up, and that one was Elmö.

"What of those who have disappeared from our midst?"

Ingwë shook his head sadly.

"I fear they may be lost for good. We can not tarry for tidings of them: the Valar await us, and Oromë himself shall be our guide."

"So we should just abandon them to whatever fate befell them? And what of Ilwë? Should we not wait for her return at least? She promised she would."

"Yet she did not." said Elwë, and looked upon him pityingly, for he knew well how his brother had kept hope for her return when all others had given up, "She must be lost also."

"Wrong on both counts!" came a voice from the midst of the silent group, and a figure came forward, wrapped in a hooded cloak.

"I am here, and still very much alive." And the figure threw back the hood: and it was Ilwë. 

A great cry of dismay came up, for her fair face was disfigured as if a great claw had torn the flesh, and the long dark tresses that had shimmered so fair with the niphredil in them like stars were burnt. Yet she held her cropped and scarred head high with pride, and her eyes shone dark and forbidding.

But Elmö saw none of this, only that she had returned, and sprang forward with a cry of happiness: "I knew you would keep your promise! I awaited you."

The joy that shone on Ilwe's face at these words made her more beautiful than the fairest of Elfmaids, and her eyes turned soft and tender. In a gentle whisper she spoke to Elmö: "Your faith has been greater than mine, for I myself despaired…and I thank you for it. I need your friendship now more than ever, Elmö, are you with me?"

"Always." he promised, "Yours scars will heal, though they matter not to me; and I will defy anyone who dares think less of you for them, or look upon you with pity, for you have no need of that, my brave fair Ilwë."

She pressed his hands tightly in hers, and in a sad and broken voice whispered: " Some scars can never heal…but now I find them not so hard to bear."

Then she looked at Ingwë and Elwë, and her face became stern again.

"Are you going to answer his question?"

"What would you have me say? " asked Elwë, "We do not even know what has befallen our lost kin…unless you found out."

"I did indeed." answered Ilwë, and her voice became cold, "That was the purpose of my going. Far to the North

I travelled, and deep into the Earth, into the fortress that was Utumno I went. I say 'was', for it is no more. The Valar laid siege to it and destroyed it all but completely."

The Elves shouted for joy at this news: they had been much afeared of the threat from the North, and they were happy to be free of it forever, or so they thought. Yet Ilwë held up a hand to bid for silence. 

"Oh yes, I heard the blast of the trumpet of Eonwë, whose strength in battle rivals that of the Valar, and a terror overcame all the foes, for in the wake of its sound came the host of the Valar. And I saw how the gates of Utumno were broken and the halls unroofed, and when Melkor took refuge in the uttermost pit, a mighty Vala came forth: his hair and beard were golden, his flesh ruddy, and his weapons were his hands, and he laughed as he wrestled with the dark One, until he cast him upon his face, and laughing still he bound him with a great chain."

Now all the Elves cheered and sang and danced and were greatly relieved, and they praised the Valar for their prowess. Then Ilwë held up both hands for silence:" Nonetheless they did not discover all the mighty vaults and caverns hidden with deceit far beneath the fortress of Utumno, and the stronghold of Angband that is in the Northwest. Many evil things still linger there, and others were dispersed and fled into the dark, and roam now in the waste places of the world, awaiting a more evil hour. All of this I have seen and witnessed: and when the battle was ended and from the ruin of the North great clouds arose hiding the stars themselves, theValar drew Melkor back to their own land, bound hand and foot and blindfold, to be brought to the Ring of Doom and be judged, no doubt."

She fell silent.

There was a talk and a tumult among the Elves after this tale, and many shouted that there was no reason to leave their home, now that the Enemy was overcome, but others cried that Ilwë had testified to there being Evil still, and that they should leave at once, and of these Ingwë was the chief, though not out of fear, but of a burning desire to return to Valinor.

Yet there still remained that great sad and silent group awaiting word of their lost loved ones. At the last, Elmö voiced their fears: " Amid all that strife and ruin, did you not find trace of our lost kin?"

Ilwë remained silent for a long time, and upon her maimed face there was a look of sorrow that betrayed her inner debate. Finally she spoke: "They no longer with us."

And then they cried out in stricken grief, and all of those that lost a friend, a relative, a loved one, cut and tore and shorn their hair short as Ilwë's in sign of mourning, and joined their voices in lament.

Many of these were swayed now, for Ingwë spoke: "Most grievous are these tidings. My heart is heavy at the thought that such evil could come to pass. Let us now make haste to Valinor, were all hurts will be healed, and our hearts made glad again, and we shall suffer no more." 

The three ambassadors and Olwë immediately began preparations for their departure. And when the first group was ready, Oromë came to ride at their head upon Nahar, his white horse shod with gold; and passing northward about the Sea of Helcar they turned towards the West. Long and slow was the march of the Eldar, as they now called themselves, into the west, for the leagues of Middle Earth were uncounted, and weary and pathless. Not a few grew afraid and repented, and turned back; nor did the Eldar desire to hasten, for they were filled with wonder at all that they saw, and by the many lands and rivers they wished to abide; and although willing, many feared rather their journey's end than hoped for it. Therefore whenever Oromë departed, having at times other matters to heed, they halted and went forward no more, until he returned to guide them. Of the three hosts, only the Vanyar, that were led by Ingwë who was thereafter High King of all the Elves, and the Noldor led by Finwë, reached the land of the Valar, but of the Teleri host led by Elwë and Olwë many turned aside, and in the end even Elwë himself tarried, and never came to Valinor.

But the Avari, that is the Unwilling, remained by the waters of Cuiviénen till the last of their kin had left, and when the hindmost of Olwe's host disappeared from even the sharpest Elven view, Ilwë turned to Elmö and said softly:

"Now you must decide, for you can still join them. I no longer have a brother, yet you have two, whom you love most dearly."

He drew her close: "Your sorrows are my sorrows, you know that. Let me share them and carry part of the burden with you. Tell me of your brother."

"You would not wish to know."

"Was it so terrible then? Why did not tell the others? You are not alone to have lost someone dear…they might have stayed."

"If they were capable of leaving not knowing, they would be even more capable, knowing. For me, I cannot leave. Iluvé is still here: the land remembers him yet, when so many of his so-called friends have forgotten…forgive me, Elmö, your brothers are among them. Had they but listened, they would have heard his voice in the reeds and the soft lapping of the water upon the shore…as I do…and then I remember him as he was at the end…" Her voice broke.

"Ilwë, you must speak, for your own sake as well as for those who suffer as you do. They have the right to know. Only then can they be free of the past and with a clear mind and conscience decide to go to Valinor."

At the mention of that land, Ilwë's face became hard and her voice bitter.

"I would not go there were my brother here beside me, alive and well!! I heard nothing in Ingwë's, Finwë's and Elwë's tales that could induce me to come, just something about 'servants' and 'handmaidens'." 

She gave a short laugh. 

"Something for Ingwë, surely: he was all but panting and salivating to become their pet. But perhaps you are right; perhaps I should have told of the atrocities the Valar allowed to happen. Although they could have figured that out for themselves: you heard as well as I did: _'Manwë sees further than all other eyes, and Varda hears the sound of voices that cry from the dark places Melkor has made.'_ So they have seen, yet not paid attention, and they have heard, just not listened, when our kin were being tortured and twisted and corrupted into the soulless warrior-slaves of Utumno…did I say they were dead? There are those who live still their unhappy lives: those that were not slain by the oh so mighty Valar. Yes, they came in the end, but not to heal, they can create a world but undo the harm of Melkor apparently was beyond them. I saw my own brother Iluvé crawl from the pit with bloodlust in his eyes that before were only filled with merriment and love. I begged the Valar - yes! You hear aright, I, Ilwë, was not too proud to beg, for my brother's life. Our kin might have been changed to monsters, but they were still our kin: yet to the Valar killing the victims of a great wrong was the best, or the simplest way to solve the problem. But I would not let them lay a hand on Iluvé!"

She touched her face were the scar was now faint yet still visible. " It was he who gave me this. Just before I drove my knife into his heart. I keep telling myself that that is what he would have wanted most."

And she wept long and bitter tears of grief that finally would come, and he wept with her.

And when all their tears were spent, Elmö came to a decision. 

"I will join my brothers. I must. I would have them know the truth, that their eyes may be opened to the nature of the Valar. Although I do not believe that they are evil; rather that, as Masters of the Earth, they do not understand the true meaning of Freedom and Independence."

She smiled at him.

"Something we do, you and I, as Free Spirits. In Utumno I saw slavery. I fear that in Valimar I would see the other side of the same leaf: slavery disguised by beauty and comfort. Not for me! I fear too that Ingwë, Finwë and your brothers have also had a sweet taste of Mastery. I'm sure they will want servants and handmaidens before long. Leadership is good when it is necessary, as it will be on their long and dangerous journey, but I doubt they will relinquish it, even in the safety of Valinor. Ah, Elmö, what will our people become?"

He wanted to speak, to reassure her, to promise that he would do his uttermost to win the hearts and minds and souls of their people back, but she laid her finger on his lips. 

"No words. No oaths. You are a Free Spirit. You may not be able to do what you will, but you will do what you can. It is enough. Go. Go now, go swift. I have faith in you, as you had in me. Farewell!"

And thus Elmö went, without looking back, and indeed he succeeded in swaying part of his brother's following; and in this he was greatly aided by the sight they had of the great river and the tall mountains that formed the border to the westlands of Middle Earth; and these were so fearsome and forbidding that some turned back; and among those that did cross the river one arose that was called Lenwë, and he led away a numerous people, southwards down the river were forever they dwelled besides falls and running streams.

Elmö himself went over the mountains and stayed with his brothers for a long time in the land that afterwards was known as East Beleriand, beyond the river Gelion, were the Teleri rested, while Finwë with his Noldor lived more westward. Elwë often would seek out his friend Finwë, and from one such occasion he did not return, and though his folk sought him long and hard they found him not. At length Olwë took the Kingship of the Teleri and departed: and in this Elmö tried in vain to stop him. Angry words were spoken between the two brothers then: and thereafter the friends of Elwë, who choose with Elmö to stay, called themselves the Eglath, the Forsaken People, vowing to await Elwë's return.

Elmö mourned the absence of two brothers then, and long did his grief last, and he would not be comforted, till an Elfmaid from among the Eglath came to dwell by his side; and she dried his tears and loved him, and he came to love her in return, and took her to wife.

Many years passed as measured by the wheeling stars above, when from the forests at last Elwë came forth, and in his hand was the hand of Melian the Maia, in whose face shone the light of Valinor, and nightingales went always with her. From then on he was called Thingol, and his people Sindar, and together they founded the peaceful Kingdom of Doriath, that was protected by the spells of Melian. 

When Elmö saw that his brother was quite content to remain in Middle Earth and had no more thought of taking his people West, he made his farewells, for he had resolved to journey overseas to urge the Vanyar and the Noldor to return. Naught is known of him since, for he is not mentioned in any further tale, but some say that he was close to Fëanor son of Finwë, and instrumental in his Revolt against the Valar and the Return of the Noldor. 

It is believed that he met his death in the Kinslaying in the havens of Alqualondë, where the Noldor seized the ships of the Teleri; and he had desperately tried to separate the warring factions, for it was ever his hope to reunite his people. Yet his children had remained in Doriath, and lived there for many an age: then Evil befell that happy land as is told elsewhere* and Elwë was slain for his treasure by the Dwarves, and in her grief Melian forsook the Elves who, unprotected, were set upon by the enemy, and Doriath was ruined. 

In that great battle many perished, among them many of the House of Elmö, save his son Oropher,and Celeborn, his daughter's son, and Nimloth, whose father was Celeborn's younger brother Galathil. Together they gathered the scattered people of Doriath, and led them for awhile, until Dior, Thingol's heir through his daughter Luthien came to take up the Kingship. Then Oropher, being a Free Spirit like his father, took all of the people of Doriath who were of like mind with him Eastwards, where they met and joined with a group of Avari Elves, and together they dwelled under the eaves of a great wood. And though they called him King, their ways were never like those of the Vanyar and the Noldor, nor even of their own kin, the Sindar of Doriath. These in time would pass over the mountains too, led by Celeborn and his wife the Noldorin Queen Galadriel, to found the Kingdom of Lothlorien, yet there never was much friendship between these two people, and indeed Oropher would take his people Northwards, away from their influence.

During all those ages Ilwë and the Avari roamed Middle Earth as a Free People, and not until a chance meeting in a forest altered her purpose did she have dealings with the Eldar. 

* In 'The Silmarillion'


	4. Appendix

CONCERNING THE ANCESTRY OF CELEBORN AND OROPHER

I have tried to figure this out logically: 

Tolkien had early on established that the Elves of Mirkwood were Woodelves who had never gone west, also called the Avari or Darkelves, in other words, "lesser" than those who did go: the Vanyar, Noldor and (some) Teleri, even lesser than those Teleri who stopped halfway, the Sindar of Doriath who with their king Elwë were content to behold the light of Valinor in Melian (cfr. The Silmarillion). Now Legolas could not very well be a 'lesser' elf altogether, so Tolkien added some 'nobler' blood into the Mirkwood line (I am simplifying).

Likewise for Celeborn: a Noldorin princess like Galadriel could not be married to anything less than a prince.

Now there were only four available Elvenkings with princely offspring: Ingwë, Finwë, Olwë and Elwë. 

As Galadriel is granddaughter both to Olwë and Finwë, Celeborn had to be descendant of one of the others to avoid too much incestuous inbreeding. Descendancy from Ingwë would have been best (no bloodrelation) but he could not be Vanyar, because they would not return to Middle Earth (cfr. the wife of Finrod), so that left the Sindarin King. Unfortunately, Elwë only had a daughter, and if Celeborn had been brother to either Luthien or Dior that would cause problems for the next generation (Elwing-Elrond).

So into the genealogical equation comes Elmö, brother to Elwë and Olwë, and therefore a Prince though not a king. It is not explicitly said so, but it seems reasonable to assume that he took over the leadership when Elwë was lost and Olwë went west. There had to be two princes, sons or grandsons of Elmö : one for Mirkwood and one for Galadriel, hence Oropher, who could have been either uncle, cousin or brother. Since it is said that there was enmity between the two, uncle seems the likeliest option. Note than both Celeborn and Legolas refer to each other as 'kinsmen': by my reasoning the former would have been first cousin to Thranduil and the latter second cousin to Celebrian. As there is never mention of kinship between Legolas and the children of Celebrian, one would assume that Elves stop counting kinship after the third generation. 

For someone who only had one daughter, Thingol is said to have an inordinate amount of kinsmen. Not only are there Celeborn and Oropher, but also Daeron the Minstrel. Since he can't be in the direct line nor Olwe's, nor in the female line (Melian, or Olwe's wife) once again he must be a descendant of Elmo, or his wife, but that last bit would be stretching kinship a bit far: let us presume that it is indirect blood-relation. I make it that Elmo has two daughters, one the mother of Celeborn and his brother Galathil, the other mother to Daeron. It is also possible that Daeron is even further removed, a son of Galathil and therefore brother to Nimloth who later married Dior, son of Luthien. But then there would have been some very fast breeding done in that line, and he would have been too junior an Elf to have made such a mark at Thingol's court (he did have the ear of the king, as we learn from Luthien's story!)

In one of the many versions of Celeborn's ancestry, his father is said to be Galadhon, son of Elmo. This I choose to disregard for the following reason.

If I have made Celeborn, Galathil and Daeron the sons of daughters rather than the sons of sons, it is because of the way the kingship is inherited in Elven society. Their ways are similar to Arabic custom: linear rather than vertical inheritance. This means than the crown goes to the eldest brother first, then the next brother, and when all of that generation are gone (women don't come into it), it goes to the eldest son of the first king. Thus, Gil-Galad only inherited his father Fingon's throne after the rule and death of his uncle Turgon, whereas his aunt Aredhel did not.

Now, following this logic, after the death of Elwë the crown of Doriath would have gone to the elder brother (presumably) Olwë who was in Valinor. Since Elmö didn't get it either, he was unavailable too. Then it would have gone to Elwë's eldest son, but he hasn't got one (had Celeborn been that son, he would have been king), therefore, skipping Olwë 's absent offspring (if he hàd sons) it would go to a son of Elmö.

Again, Celeborn did not get the crown, therefore could not be a son of Elmö. The crown instead goes to Dior, a daughter's son in the direct line (Elwë's). Had Celeborn been a son's son, even in the indirect (Elmö's) line, he would have inherited. Now maybe he stepped aside but how likely is that with an ambitious wife like Galadriel who came east to have her own kingdom (cfr. The Silmarillion)? Therefore, he had a lesser claim than Dior, therefore he was a daughter's son in the lesser line. Obviously, a daughter's son in the direct line will take precedence over a daughter's son in the indirect line. The same story goes for Galathil and Daeron.

Why then did the crown not go the better claim, Oropher, if he was a son of Elmö? It would be logical then to assume that he was in the same position as Celeborn. But that would make the kinship between Celeborn and Legolas rather distant, and there is that matter of enmity between them (cfr. The Unfinished Tales): twice does Oropher move northwards away from the Lothlorien influence of Celeborn and Galadriel. Nor does he truly acknowledge Gil-galad as Highking in the Last Alliance. Something definitely must have happened. My guess is he just upped and left, preferring a new kingdom for himself rather than a hand-me-down contested by Dior, who probably got backing from everyone else as grandson of Elwë and Melian the Maia (I suspect the hand of Galadriel in this who was so chummy with Melian). More of this in chapter 5.

Finally, there is also Eol, another 'kinsman' according to the Silamrillion. I make him Daeron's cousin, son of Ithilbor and elder brother to Saeros, as their characters are similar.

This wraps up the kinship and kingship matters rather nicely I think. Of course it is always possible that Elwe/Thingol had children before he met Melian! After all, they must have bred like rabbits in the early days…

I also disregard Tolkien's ultimate version of Celeborn being a Teleri prince. That would really be incest with Galadriel, and it does say in the Silmarillion that Elves do not marry their cousins (though Elrond comes rather close marrying his grandmother's cousin !)

I hope this all makes sense to you. Please keep in mind too that neither the Silmarillion nor The Unfinished Tales were edited by Tolkien himself, but collected by his son from sometimes unintelligible drafts. So who knows what Tolkien would have made of it had he lived to edit them?


	5. Lament for Luthien

Chapter 4. Lament for Luthien

' _'The leaves were long, the grass was green,_

The hemlock umbells tall and fair

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinuviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen…'

From: 'The Lay of Leithian'

He did not know where he was, nor did he care. 

He had passed mountains, rivers, vast forests, empty plains, almost without notice. His heart was still: his soul darkened. He would die, if he felt he deserved death. 

He deserved worse; therefore he lived.

Such was the punishment he had set himself.

His crime: his guilt: his punishment. Not even the gentle starlight was to bring him comfort now.

There had been a time when he had been able to capture the beauty of the world and the firmament in music and song, worthy of the Great Song of Iluvatar itself: but no longer. He lacked the will, though the skill was still there, and in his more waking moments, when he was most aware of himself and his surroundings, he caught himself moving his fingers as if playing an invisible harp, or his pipe.

Involuntary his hands flew to his breast, where the instrument hung on a thong. He had not been able to bring himself to abandon it, when he had left all else behind. Not the fluteon which he had so often played to his love.

His love? She had never been his. She was fairer than all the stars in heaven, and he had tried to translate that into music. That had been the beginning of it. They had praised him and called him the greatest minstrel east of the sea, greater even than Maglor son of Feanor.

What did they know? Nothing! Nothing at all!

Little had he cared for their adulation. The music was hers, and hers alone. The music _was _her.

Her long shadowy hair, and arms like silver glimmering, her dancing feet, her song, that called forth spring and made flowers bud and open, and melted the winter snows!

Green had been the grass about her, and golden the flowers and he had played for her, hidden, unseen, as she danced.

And then _it_ had come. 

That man, her fate. 

That mortal man, wandering by paths that no Man nor Elf had ever dared to tread, to the border of Doriath; and he had passed through the mazes that Melian had woven about the Kingdom of Thingol her spouse, stumbling into that land grey and bowed as with many years of woe, so great had been the torment of the road.

It had been summer then, in the woods of Neldoreth, at a time of evening under moonrise, and she had been dancing upon the unfading grass in the glades beside Esgalduin. Blue had been her raiment, as the unclouded heavens, but her eyes were grey as the starlit evening; her mantle was sown with golden flowers, but her hair dark as the shadows of twilight. Like the sun upon the leaves of trees, as the voice of clear waters, as the stars above the mists of the world: such had been her loveliness, and in her face had been a shining light.

He had played his best for her, hidden as always among the hemlock umbells, and oh, how his heart had ached at the sight of her, knowing that he could never speak of his love!

For if she could not read his heart in his music, what hope was there for words?

But he had been content with being merely her piper, since that was all he was to her, as long as there was no other.

And he had known from the moment the man had stepped out into the glade that he would be her doom. For he knew well that none could pass the Girdle of Melian without the Queen's knowledge or consent.

That first, starlit meeting of Beren and Luthien had been meant to happen, though she had fled from him, from autumn into winter; and then a second time the man had come upon her, on the eve of spring, as she had danced and sung. Her song had been as the song of the lark that rises from the gates of the night and pours its voice among the dying stars, seeing the sun behind the wall of the world, releasing the bonds of frost.

Then the man, the intruder, had called out to her : "Tinuviel! Tinuviel!", the woods echoing the name he gave her; and as she halted in wonder, he came to her.

And she loved him : and was lost.

Lost, lost forever to the Eldalië, caught up in the fate of mortal men was she! And he had been witness to that, watching as she fled from Beren's arms, and then returned to lay her hand in his, walking with him in secret through the woods together from spring to autumn, in joy so great, though their time had been brief.

For he had betrayed her.

Thingol, in his anger, would have had the mortal put to death, had not Luthien forestalled him, and made him swear neither to slay nor imprison the man that had stolen her heart. But when Beren had claimed Luthien for his, upon no other grounds than that he loved her, and would have his treasure - oh, the arrogance of that man!- and upon his father's friendship with Finrod Felagund, the King had sentenced him to death as surely as if he had give the order for his execution: for the price that he had set upon his daughter was a Silmaril from the Iron Crown of Morgoth.

Truly, he told himself, he had not wanted this. He only desired to keep Luthien safe, for a while, in Doriath: for a while, for himself. He too had been arrogant in his self-assurance: surely she would forget that stranger, and dance again to his music?! Yet though he had played his merriest tunes she had remained silent, and sang no more.

And when she had heard of Beren's capture by Sauron, and how he had been cast into a pit in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, without hope of rescue, she had resolved to fly, and come herself to his aid. Then she had turned to him, her piper - oh so trusting still! - and sought his assistance. 

And he had betrayed her a second time.

And lost her, for good.

For though Thingol had made her a prison - for what else would one call a house with no exit, surrounded with guards?- in the greatest of all the trees in the forest of Neldoreth, by her arts of enchantment she had escaped from all eyes, and vanished out of Doriath. 

Lost, lost lost, was his Luthien! Betrayed by family and kin, betrayed by friendship itself, betrayed by him: Daeron the Minstrel, Daeron the Fool, Daeron the Traitor. Nevermore would she trust him, nevermore would she dance on the banks of Esgalduin, nevermore would her song be heard in the clear morning and the deepening twilight. For she had gone to find her lover, and surely she would perish with him, into darkness and deadly night. Would that he were at her side, and perish first!

He too had left the realm of Thingol, searching for her, and in his despair he had walked upon strange paths…yet none so strange as the wanderings of his own, guilt-ridden mind. 

Sometimes it seemed to him as if he could see her, afar, as leaves in the winds of autumn, and in winter as a star upon a hill forever beyond his reach, and even as Beren had he would cry out: "Tinuviel! Tinuviel!", yet only the wind would answer, and the rustling of the dark waters by which he now dwelt.

Again he touched the instrument on his breast, lovingly stroking the silken-soft wood with long, nimble musician's fingers.

Perhaps he should play.

He found that he had already put the flute to his lips, and he put it down again.

Music had been his life, as Luthien had been; by his actions he had forfeited her: it was no more than justice then that he should forfeit music as well.

A fitting punishment for his crime.

With trembling hands he hauled the thong from over his neck, and held the pipe over the swift-running waters of the river.

No more music…

He had played the first notes already before he realised it. 

One last song, a lament, for Luthien. 

And he played, as he had never played before, a song of sunlight and twilight, of quiet laughter and white flowers, of dancing feet and midnight hair, and the smile upon her face.

Farewell, Luthien.

As the last note died, he held out his arms again, and opened his hands.

The instrument made hardly a sound as it hit the water. 

"Farewell, Luthien!"

He had called out the words, despite himself, though he knew there would be no answering call for him, even if she had been there: for him, nothing but the wind whistling in the rushes and the reeds, and the howling of the wolves.

They were closing in on him now; having followed him since he had come down Hithaeglir, the Towers of Mist. Yet he had not fled before them, for he would have welcomed death at their fangs.

Possibly they preferred the chase, that he withheld from them: and so they had kept their distance, now approaching, now falling back, but always there.

Apparently they had come to a decision; he was glad of it. There would be an end.

Another howl rent the night-air. Closer still: they were coming. He could see their evilly-glinting eyes, yellow in the moonlight, like slit-lanterns, nearer and nearer, creeping forward on soft hunter's feet….

"I am not afraid of Death!"

They halted, and there was a sound as of laughter, and then the forward-most wolf, a pale grey shape, lowered on her haunches, ready to fly for his throat.

He closed his eyes, and bowed his head to his fate.

Now. Let it be.

Something whistled past him and there came yet another howl, of pain and fear this time, and as he looked up, he saw three wolves lying dead upon the ground, and the others fleeing into the shadows.

How?

Gingerly, he stepped forward, to where the leader of the pack lay, a white-feathered dart stuck in its throat.

But who, in this great loneliness of land and air and river could have- would have- come to save him?

"Whoever thou art,' he whispered, 'I thank thee not. My life no longer matters: there was no need to risk thine to save mine."

A laugh, short, sharp and clear, like the breaking of ice, was his answer.

'I did not slay those wolves to save you, Sindar, for in truth I care even less for your life than you seem to do, but rather because I would not have them get a taste for elven flesh."

He spun round: there was only darkness, and the river.

Soft laughter mocked him.

" Can you not judge by the angle of the darts from whence they flew, nor judge the direction by the sound of my voice? Truly, Elwe's people have gone soft with easy living within the protection of Melian's Girdle."

" Who is it that names my King and kinsman thus?" called he, for it surprised him to hear the ancient name of Thingol spoken here in this wilderness so openly.

"One who knew him before he took the title of King, and put himself above his fellows." replied the voice 

"Show yourself !"

"If you wish" said she, for it was a she, that much he gathered from the lightness of the voice, and such was confirmed as a slender, female elf slid down from a tall willow tree, not far from where he was standing.

Little though did she resemble the maidens of Menegroth, for she was clad in man's apparel, with midnight hair cropped short, a long white knife unsheathed at her side, a long, thin blowpipe in her hand. Wild she was, and fair, and free, and she did not resemble Luthien in any way. And yet he felt as if he could follow her to the ends of the earth and back. This was not the majesty Thingol commanded, nor the hold of love Thingol's daugther had over him, but something he could not name, something that was both ancient and yet very young, something he had not known he had lost, and found again.

Whatever else he was, he had always been a courteous elf : he bowed to her.

"Lady.'

For a moment, scorn and disdain passed over her face, then, with a shrug, she dismissed his show of deference as of no consequence, and pushed past him without another word. Kneeling by the dead beasts she withdrew the darts and, after having cleansed them of blood and gore, replaced them in the bandoleer she wore across her chest. Then she drew her knife, and proceeded to skin them.

"How can you bear to touch those …those…?"

" They are but wolves. And we Avari do not kill superfluously. These pelts will keep my people warm in winter."

"Darkelves!" he cried out, " you are a Darkelf!'

She paused to look at him.

" Do they still call us that? No doubt they think of themselves as being 'Lightelves': those who have gone to Aman and beheld the Trees of the Valar, or at least have undertaken the journey. Still, the Trees are gone, and many of those who once passed over the waters have returned."

He stared at her in wonder, while she continued her grisly work.

"How can you know of this? Never has any of your kind crossed the Great River."

Again she halted, and looked at him and inquired casually, patiently, as she tore the skin off the wolf-carcass, flung it aside and started another:

" Which side of the river are we now?"

"…West…"

"Then it would seem that at least one of us has crossed."

He clapped his hands to his head and shook it.

As chief loremaster of his King, he had often travelled among the elven peoples west of the mountains, even among the Laiquendi or Greenelves of Ossiriand though they had been a rustic kind of folk, and of little interest, and even less so after the advent of the Noldor, for most had perished in the First War of Beleriand. 

Little had they spoken of their kinsfolk left behind East of the Hithaeglir, and of those who had never undertaken the journey from Cuivienen, hardly anything at all. Some, and he had been among those, had doubted the continued existence of these Darkelves. He doubted it even now. How could this she-elf have knowledge of these matters, if she were Avari? Either those Darkelves managed to survive in dwindling numbers in the furthest east and never passed the Mountains, or had deminished to the savage creatures that were Orcs. It seemed that she had guessed his thoughts, for she looked at him again, with a smile that was not free from some contempt, and said: " Just because _you_ have never shown an interest in your kin in the East, does not mean _we_ have none in you! True: we are Avari, that is 'the Unwilling'. True again: we have never beheld the light of Aman, and could therefore, conceivably, be branded as Darkelves. Yet we have ever been a free folk, wandering this fair earth without constraint Oft have I - and others like me - travelled the lands that your 'kings' hold, when they were still nameless and untamed by Elf…or Man, for that matter. And in later ages, we have dwelt among you without notice, learning of your ways, admittedly sometimes to our benefit, but more often than not with pain: for we like it not what you have become: proud, overbearing, masterful."

She fell silent.

"Lady…"he began, and faltered. Though her words had been cold and hard, they were not wholly unjust, and had he himself not shown great arrogance towards the Laiquendi? He recalled, too, how in the twentieth year of the Sun, Fingolfin King of the Noldor had made a great feast, held in spring, near the pools of Ivrin: Mareth Aderthad, the Feast of Reuniting. Thither had come many of the chieftains of the people of Fingolfin and Finrod his brother's son, and Maedhros and Maglor the sons of Feanor, and a number of Grey-elves from the woods of Beleriand and folk from the Havens with Cirdan their Lord, and even some Green-elves from Ossiriand, such as were left; and he too had been there, with his friend Mablung, as messengers from King Thingol. At Mereth Aderthad many counsels had been taken in good will, and oaths sworn of league and friendship, yet all that time he had not been able to shake off the feeling that somehow, to the Noldor, and especially the mighty sons of Feanor, he and his kind were 'less'. Finrod alone had been an exception: he had come to Doriath for a while with his sister Galadriel, as guests of King Thingol, and he had been so filled with wonder at the the strength of Menegroth, its treasuries and armouries and its many-pillared halls of stone, that he had a like stronghold build in the deep gorge of the river Narog and the caves under the High Farath in its steep western shore; and it had come to be called Nargothrond. Galadriel went not with him, for in Doriath she had met Celeborn his cousin *, and there was great love between them. Therefore she had remained in the Hidden Kingdom, abiding with Melian, learning great lore and wisdom concerning Middle Earth.

In all fairness it could be said that the Noldor were indeed superior, in that they had the greater power of mind and body, and were the mightier warriors and sages, as they had proved time upon time, at Dagor-Nuin-Giliath, the Battle-under the Stars, when they first arrived, and Dagor Aglareb, the Glorious Battle, and at the Siege of Angband. Fingon, prince of Hithlum, had even driven back Glaurung, the first if the Uruloki, the fire-drakes of the North, after whose defeat had followed the Long Peace of well-nigh two hundred years, and all Beleriand had prospered and grown rich. 

And yet, fortuitous though the arrival in the hour of need the coming of the Noldor had been, it left a bitter aftertaste in the mouths of those who knew the truth: not in aid of their kin in Middle Earth had they come, as they would have all believe, but to retrieve the Silmarils Morgoth stole, and to seek and carve out kingdoms of their own to rule them at their own will.

Thus, they had been cursed and were exiled; and even if they repented and sought to return to Valinor to sue for pardon, what ship would bear them back across so wide a sea? 

Well enough did he understand the feelings of the Avari in this! They had ever remained in the twilight world, and never aspired to anything greater than being a Free Folk of hill and wood and fen.

Another thought struck him.

"Lady…if you despise us so much, why did you save me? Your explanation does not ring true: surely it can not be a mere coincidence that you came to be here right on time! Were you following me?"

She made no answer, but finished her work on the last wolf, then went to the water's edge to cleanse her sullied hands and knife. Only then, as she replaced the weapon at her side, did she speak.

"I do not despise you. I could not: you are an elf, and my kin, sundered and estranged though you may be. 

We were aware of your presence in these regions for some time now, and yes, we followed you, for a lone Elf is an easy target, and we feared that you might attract such fell creatures as there are between the Mountains and the River. And we were right, were we not?" she waved a dismissive hand at the carcasses, " Still, I would not have sought you out, were it not for the music!"

She turned to face him: and her stern countenance had become soft and gentle, and her eyes shone;

"I have not heard a pipe played in such a manner for a long time! That music should not die."

"Yet die it will, for it is Death I have come to seek in this wilderness." said he; yet even as he spoke, his voice trembled, for his resolve was not so strong as it once had been. If she had noticed this tremble, she did not let it show.

"That must be your decision, Harper, I shall not stop you. Still, if I can command some gratitude of you, I would, for my trouble, dearly love to hear you play once more."

"That would be my pleasure!" he answered, before he thought, and then he had to add, shamefacedly: "Alas, I can not grant your wish! I threw my flute into the River."

"You are a man of uncompromising passions."she remarked with a slight smile, " But that can be remedied. I have a pipes that you may play on."

The musician in him reared its head, and made him answer rather stiffly: " I can not play on just any old instrument!"

Her smile deepened.

"Not even on the Pipes of Iluve?"

"Iluve!"

Only once had he heard that name mentioned: Thingol had once compared him to that great Harper of the dawn of time, the first Elf to have wrought sound to music.

"Oh, I would live but to behold that instrument, to play it would be more than I deserve!" he cried, overcome.

"Quite probably." said she, soberly, and there was a sudden sadness in her face, as of an old, old pain that can never be forgotten: a sorrow that ran deep, but not so deep as to blot out all else, for there was a great strength in her, and a love that admitted no defeat. Rather than suffer the loss, she celebrated the memory of happier days.

She swept a hand over her face, and the sadness was gone.

"However, I will not pronounce judgement. But it is my belief that there is no crime so great that it can not be forgiven, when repentance is true and forgiveness asked."

Tears welled up in his eyes then, and in a choking voice he confessed his crime to her. She heard it in silence, and in silence she turned away from him. He fell to his knees, and cried out: "Oh, slay me then, for you _have_ passed judgement on me! And truly, mine is a crime that can not be pardoned: I have betrayed, and lost my love."

"You have never loved at all." said she coldly, " But in the way of all your kind: that sees beauty and strives to possess it. I do not blame you: it is but what the Valar taught you. When you love someone, you let him go free." And she added in a whispered voice filled with pain: " As I did, as I did, though my soul lives in torment ever since…ah, perhaps yours is the better way to love: at least it does not hurt so much. No, no, forget I said that: what do I know of your heart? I spoke too rash, too harsh."

"You spoke truth." said he,"And showed me what I am : greedy, desirous of what I can not have, and full of self-pity. I thought I played a lament for Luthien, when in reality it was for myself. What you heard was nothing: worthless. I have some small skill as a Harper, but I have never played music as it should be played : from within. For if I were to lay bare my soul, it is a false tune you would hear!"

"Perhaps a fairer one than you think." said she, gently." Shall we see? Follow me to were my people dwell. It is best not to linger here: there are still wolves near."

As if to confirm her words, a great howling of many fell voices was heard through the deepening night.

"So. They have regained their courage, and have called their foul kin to their aid. Those are Warg-howls, at least seven I would say, by the sound of it, and some dozen wolves."

"Then we are doomed!" cried he in dismay, " Lady, hand me your knife. I shall fight for you, and our lives shall be dearly bought."

"This from the Elf who only moments ago was craving death! You are quick to change your mind on so grave a matter."

"This is no time for jest! They will be upon us any time now."

She remained unperturbed.

"They are about a mile away still. Time enough to call for assistance."

From her belt she pulled forth a strange object: wooden, hollow and oblong, with a slit in its belly,sharp,wing-like shapes at its sides and a strong cord on one end. She began to spin it round and round over her head in swift, steady movements, and a loud, penetrating sound issued forth.

"We call it a 'screech-fin' " she explained, " A call-signal we use when one is in need. The beasts of Morgoth have learned to fear its sound, for death, to them, will follow in its wake."

Suddenly, there was a thudding noise, and from the willow tree on the side facing the river protruded a longshafted arrow. It had a thin line attached to it, and as she pulled it in, a thick rope followed. 

Deftly, she swung it round the tree twice and knotted it fast, so that it ran tight across the water. Then she gave a long, low whistle, and was answered, and from the opposite bank came several green-clad elves came running, over the rope, armed with long bows and sharp knives. They swiftly took position along the river's edge, their visages dark and grim, their eyes narrowed, with a cold hard light coming from within.

"Come! My warriors will deal with the Wargs. Let us across, and I shall lead you to the safety of our camp. Will you follow me?"

She held out her hand.

He did not hesitate. No, his shame, his guilt, had not been forgotten. Yet it seemed to him that he was offered a chance to redeem himself. Oh, that she might come to trust him! How dearly he wished to prove himself worthy!

Another kind of shame came over him: was he not a coward, never could he hope to equal the bravery of these people, who dwelt on the edge of danger all their life, and had not lost courage; whereas he, who had lived in peace and comfort, had had none. He had fooled himself into believing that he was searching for his lost love, but in reality, he had been fleeing from the consequences of his misdeeds. And Luthien had paid the price.

He took the she-elf's hand.

"Lady, no longer will I seek solace from my woes in flight and death. Instead, like you, I shall face them. Gladly will I follow!"

She smiled.

"My name is Ilwe."

__

To be continued.

* see appendix (previous chapter)

Note of the author: part of the above is derived or copied from 'The Silmarillion'. Iluve and Ilwe are original characters. The screech-fin is an idea I picked up from the 1968 Flemish television series 'Keromar'.


	6. Elmo's Dream

Chapter 5. Elmo's Dream.

__

"It came to pass (…) that the Dwarves came over the Blue Mountains of Ered Luin into Beleriand. Themselves they named 'Khazad', but the Sindar called them Naugrim, the Stunted People, and Gonhirrim, Masters of Stone.(…) From Nogrod and Belegost the Naugrim came forth into Beleriand; and the Elves were filled with amazement, for they had believed themselves to be the only living beings that spoke with words or wrought with hands, and that all others were but birds and beasts. (…) Ever cool was the friendship between the Naugrim and the Eldar, though much profit they had of one another…"

"In Beleriand in those days the Elves walked and the Rivers flowed, and the stars shone, and the night-flowers gave forth their scents; and the beauty of Melian was as the noon, and the beauty of Luthien was as the dawn of spring. In Beleriand King Thingol upon his throne was as the Lords of the Maiar, whose power is at rest, whose joy is as an air that they breathe in all their days, whose thought flows in a tide untroubled from the heights to the deeps."

"An ere long the evil creatures came even into Beleriand, over passes into the mountains, or up from the south through the dark forest. Wolves there were, or creatures that walked in wolf-shapes, and other fell beings of shadow; and among them were Orcs, who afterwards wrought ruin in Beleriand; but they were yet few and wary, and did but smell out the ways of the land, awaiting the return of their Lord. Whence they came, or what they were, the Elves knew not then, thinking them perhaps to be Avari who had become evil and savage in the wild; in which they guessed all too near…"

From : Quenta Silmarillion; Of the Sindar.

"Ilwe, Ilwe, Ilwe…"

Like a song it rang through his mind.

He should have known. He should have guessed. Who else could she be?

Never was the name of Ilwe the Awakened spoken out loud in Doriath; of her, only whispers and rumours told barely-believed tales of days long-forgotten, and, so many judged, best-forgotten. Nevertheless, as chief loremaster to King Thingol he had recorded those tales, and had had personal affirmation of her existence, for was he himself not grandson to Elmo the Awakened, brother to the King yet only friend and ardent supporter of the Lady of the Avari?

He had been but a child when Elmo bade his kin farewell and departed for the West, there to reunite and win back the hearts of their sundered people, as had ever been his dream. 

Well did he remember the gentle Elf's parting words: "I made a promise. We would be together again, and glad, and every word spoken in anger forgiven and forgotten. Friends we always were and friends we should be: for are we nor all Elves? There should be no strife among our kindred. The seeds of that strife were sown long ago, and now I must go to prevent the bitter harvest, if I can."

They had not said a word in response; not Auriel * his spouse, nor Nimlas* their eldest daughter, heavy with her second child, nor her husband Galadhon** and their son Celeborn; nor his own mother Orowen * and father Ithilred*, nor indeed his fathers' brother Ithilbor**, also present; they all looked grave in their silent acquiessence. 

Then from the shadows had come the voice of Oropher, Elmo's only son; and that was exceedingly strange, for though he was young, of an age with Celeborn, he had never been as light-hearted and playful an Elfling *** as his silver-haired nephew, and come to adult age never one to put himself forward; but when he spoke, he always made his mark.

"A promise to whom? To Ilwe?"

Elmo had smiled sadly, and answered :" To me."

Later he, Daeron, had asked his mother about this mysterious Ilwe, and Orowen had hastily silenced her little boy. "Of her and her kind, the Avari, we may no longer speak now that our King has returned: he will hear none of it."

And so he had left the question unanswered; content to remain between knowing and not knowing for many an age. No longer were his people the Eglath, the Forsaken, but the Sindar, the Greyelves of starlit Beleriand under the Lordship of King Thingol, who was once Elwe the Awakened; and with the teachings of Melian the Maia his people became the fairest and the most wise and skilful of all the Elves in Middle Earth.

The answer to the question finally came with the first rumours of war.

Melian had much foresight after the manner of the Maiar, and she had counselled Thingol that the Peace of Arda would not last forever. And so he sought aid and counsel of the Naugrim of Belegost; and together Elves and Dwarves laboured to fashion a kingly dwelling, and a place that should be strong if evil were to awaken again in Middle Earth. Thus had come into being Menegroth, the Thousand Caves.

And Evil had came.

The Naugrim had been the first to bring word of it. For the Valar had not rooted out utterly the creatures of Morgoth in the North, and now the remnant, having long multiplied in the dark were coming forth once more and roaming far and wide.

"There are fell beasts." the Dwarves had said, " In the land east of the Mountains, and your ancient kindred that dwells there are flying from the plains to he hills."

"What ancient kindred?" Daeron had asked, for as the King had willed it, those who remained in Beleriand of the Awakened and the Firstborn had never mentioned those they left behind, kin though they were; nay, not even the Falathrim, Cirdan's people, spoke of them.

And Thingol with a frown had given him an answer of sorts: "They are the Nandor of Lenwe, who halted on the Great Journey, and Ilwe's people, the Avari, who never undertook it They live far to the East, and Darkness is their lot." And he had added, perhaps more to himself than to his minstrel: "Mayhap she dwells there still, on the banks of Cuivienen, lamenting the dead…"

It had been then that he had likened Daeron to Iluve, the first music-maker, Ilwe's brother.

He had not dared to press the King further, though since he thought of himself as of a loremaster (where others saw no point, for had they not the living memory of long past?), he felt duty-bond to collect all tales of the Elves, from the Awakening to the Present. Not long after that the Dwarves' warnings were confirmed as Elves came from the East. Not Avari they were, but Teleri of the Host of Olwe that forsook the march of the Eldar by the shores of the Great River; and they had become the Nandor, dwelling there in the woods of the vale of the Anduin, and even as far as the Sea. Now, led by one Denethor son of Lenwe, they had come over the Mountains for fear of the fell beasts, as the Dwarves had said; and they were welcomed by Thingol as long lost kin that return, and they dwelt from that time on in Ossiriand.

From them and the Dwarves Daeron had learned more of the Avari: songs, bits and pieces of tales, nothing much, save that all claimed that Ilwe had been the only Elf to have gone into Utumno, and come out alive again, a feat that surpassed even that later one, the rescue of Maedhros by Fingon. 

To record all these snippets of knowledge he had devised symbols that represented sounds forming words. Only the Naugrim that came to Thingol's halls were well-pleased by these Runes, the 'Cirth', for his own folk sometimes laughingly referred to it as 'Daeron's little folly'. Still, Thingol had allowed him to record the deeds and doings of his people (though there was little to be said of bliss and glad life) and named him his chief loremaster, and in that capacity as well as that of minstrel had he served his King ever since.

He wondered now how much Thingol had really known, why he had allowed his people to believe that Avari, if they had survived, were Darkelves, and even that Orcs were Avari, and how much he had kept secret.

He also wondered what Ilwe knew. She had hinted that her people sometimes secretly passed among the Sindar.

__

"Perhaps she has had dealings with Oropher!"

For that one had been often away walking strange paths of his own, in the days before the First Battle of the Wars of Beleriand, when Morgoth, returned, had raised the reeking towers of Thangorodrim; and the Gates of Morgoth wee but one hundred and fifty leagues distant from the bridge of Menegroth: far and yet all too near. Orcs had come down upon either side of Thingol's stronghold, and plundered far and wide, cutting off the Sindar from Cirdan and his Falas; and therefore the King had called upon Denethor of Ossiriand. There had been a great victory, yet dear-bought: for Denethor's Laiquendi had been but light-armed and no match for the Orcs who were shod with iron, bearing shields and spears and broad blades; and Denethor himself had been slain. 

In the west the Orcs had been victorious, and therefore Thingol had withdrawn all his people that his summons could reach within the fastness of Neldoreth and Region, and Melian put forth her power and fenced all that dominion round about with an unseen wall of shadow and bewilderment: the Girdle of Melian, that none _("Save THAT Man!")_ thereafter could pass against her will or the will of King Thingol, unless one should come with a power greater than that of Melian the Maia. _("No, no, surely not, surely a mere Mortal could not be more powerful…but then…Melian willed it? Her own child?")_ And that new land which was long named Eglarest was after called Doriath, the Guarded Kingdom; and none could ever depart, without Thingol's leave.

__

"Yet Luthien has, and I have…that can not have been my Lord's will…perhaps…Melian's? If so, could Oropher have prevailed on them to let him wander outside of their realm, as was his wont before the creation of the Girdle?"

When the Noldor had returned from Aman, Oropher had been overjoyed (a thing most rare in the silent and withdrawn, almost dour Elf) and he had dared argue with Thingol, insisting that the King allow them into Doriath, eager as he was to learn how Elmo and Auriel fared. Of his House only Orowen had backed his plea; not Nimlas or her sons. Oropher had spoken long and passionately, far more than anyone had ever heard him do:

"Was it not my father's dream to reunite our people? And lo! They have returned from the West. Elves we were; and though time has passed and the World has changed, and where there were once only Stars in the sky there are now a Sun and a Moon, marking Day and Night and the Passage of Time and the Seasons, as we had not known before; and they shine upon us all _and we are still Elves!_"

Yet Thingol would not open his kingdom nor remove the girdle of enchantment; for wise with the warnings of Melian he trusted not that the restraint of Morgoth would endure. Alone of the Princes of the Noldor those of Finarfin's House were suffered to pass within the confines of Doriath, for they could claim close kinship with King Thingol himself since their mother was Earwen of Alqualonde, Olwe's daughter. Angrod son of Finarfin was the first to come to Menegroth as messenger of his brother Finrod, and he spoke long with the King, telling him of the deeds of the Noldor in the West, and of their numbers, and of the ordering of their forces. Still more there was he did not speak of, as later became apparent, and though Oropher had pressed him, all he would say of Elmo and Auriel was that they had remained in Aman. 

Little more could be learned from Galadriel Finarfin's daughter when she came to dwell in Doriath; only that Feanor son of Finwe had wrought fair jewels, the Silmarils, ablaze with the light of the Laurelin and Telperion, and that Melkor had coveted them, and poisoned the Trees of Valinor, and, having slain Finwe the Highking, had stolen the Silmarils and fled. Melian had suspected that there was more to be said on the matter, but Galadriel had refused to speak. It was Cirdan, Lord of the Falathrim, who first brought word to Thingol concerning the true nature of the Noldor and their deeds, and why they came to Beleriand, and of the Kinslaying, when Elf killed Elf for the possession of the Teleri ships. 

The ire of Thingol, though mighty, had been nothing compared to the anger of Oropher when finally the sons of Finarfin were made to reveal the truth, and he learned that his father and mother had been slain. 

Now he heard for the first time that Elmo had been counsellor to Feanor, and indeed along with Nerdanel the wise, Feanor's wife, the only one the fiery Elven Prince would sometimes listen to. When Feanor had been called to the Ring of Doom to be judged for drawing a sword on his half-brother Fingolfin, and subsequently banished for twelve years, Elmo in his own quiet way had laid bare the injustice of this, for had not Feanor's and his follower's wrath been fuelled by the lies of Melkor, as had Finarfin's and Fingolfin's own suspicions? Could one truly fault them for their gullibility and hot-headedness? His gentle words of reason had had such effect on Finwe that the Highking had lain down his sceptre and had withdrawn from the throne. When he had been killed at Formenos, Elmo, though very much of a mind with Feanor, and every bit as roused at the death of his friend of old, had striven in vain to curb the hot-blooded rebellious Elf. Yet with the death of his father there had been no reasoning with him; even less when the Valar would not aid him in the hunting down of Melkor, whom he named Morgoth, the Enemy of the World. There had been no holding him back either, when the Teleri refused the loan of their ships. Elmo was still mediating with Olwe when the incensed Feanor had decided to simply take the vessels; and perhaps with a little more time and patience things would have gone far different. Even when the fighting broke out Elmo had thrown himself between assailants and assailed, desperate for them to stop, and was thrown down by a Teleri Elf, and trampled in the fray; and Auriel had cried out and thrown herself over his body to protect him; yet by that time swords were drawn, and thus both had perished, and none who later saw their mangled bodies could rightly say whether it had been a Noldorin or a Teleri hand who had dealt the deathblow. 

No Songs would ever be sung of the Sorrow of Oropher, for those that beheld it were too shaken to repeat what they saw, and Daeron himself felt his Soul turn to ice again, remembering how the Elf had drawn his knife and slowly, with quiet determined gestures, cut his long dark hair. Then he had spoken, and his voice had been similarly quiet, betraying far more anguish than he would have done had he cried out the words: "Blameless you hold yourselves of the deed, as you so loudly proclaim, sons of Finarfin, Yet your true hearts have been revealed. Hard and proud you are, filled with a burning desire to carve out Kingdoms for yourselves. You did not slay your own kin, but only by default: you were not present. Who knows what you would have done had you come first to the Teleri, and been denied as Feanor had been? Hypocrites! Would you not have tried to take the ships as he of whom you speak so bitterly has done? Would you not have struck out at those that stood between you and your ambition? And perhaps, for less reason than Feanor? Can one blame him for his wrath, or his wish to avenge this father? And now, after so long a silence – which you attribute to loyalty to the very one you on the same breath decry as a fell traitor – now you tell me that my father and mother died in the battle, vainly sueing for peace between the factions. So tell me, nephews, who am I to call murderers? My brother Olwe who called the doom of his people upon his own head by refusing Feanor the loan of his ships, or Feanor for allowing anger to overcome wisdom? Or you, by proxy, for not holding either of them back? Nay, all of you to my mind share part of the guilt, and I believe that my father would not blame you either. Also I understand that your silence on this matter since was more fed by shame and fear of being rebuked by King Thingol, as rightly he has, than by so-called 'loyalty'. I understand, I say, but I shall not forget."

And then to Galadriel he had turned, and his eyes had narrowed : " You, niece, I do not forgive. Long have you dwelled among us and I held you for a friend, rejoicing in the love that is between you and my kinsman: for in that I saw a sign that my father's dream was coming true, and that your union would stand symbolic for our kindred's. Tell me, was it cowardice that kept you from telling a son of his parent's death? Or did it not suit your ambition to have us know the truth and your part in it, however small and blameless it may have been? How shall I trust you from this day on? Let Celeborn beware! I perceive that though you love him, you will always prevail over him; and though he loves you, you will abandon him. My father's dream lies shattered: Elves will never been one again."

With those words he had left, silent and shorn; and nevermore had he returned to Menegroth.

__

"And if not Oropher, then perhaps my cousin Eol** was the one to seek out the Avari. After all, he did forsake Doriath for the dark forests of Nan Elmoth, and often travelled East to learn the art of smithcraft in which he so delighted from the Dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod…but no, he has gone and left his dark domain long ago, after his wife and son had disappeared: or so his servants come to Menegroth despairing of his return have told us. Like as not he dwells in hidden Gondolin now, among Aredhel's, his wife's kin.****"

"Answers are there for the asking. " said Ilwe with a slight smile, " You are so silent. Is it the mention of my name that brought the frown to your brow? "

"And a shadow to my heart." he confessed, " It seems that I can only have dark thoughts and ugly suspicions; and I am ashamed of it. Elves should be one of mind and Soul."

She looked at him curiously.

"Words I am not hearing for the first time; though the one who spoke them did not necessarily mean the same thing as you do. He certainly never wished for all Elves to agree on everything, or with him, for that matter. Yet he did wish for them to be friends, and to have the freedom to make up their own minds."

He halted, startled.

They had been penetrating ever deeper into the forest east of the River. The cool sound of the Anduin flowing and the rustling of the reeds lay far behind them already; and as the pallid dawn announced itself with the chirruping of myriads of little birds opening their throats to greet the day, the sun rose gently. To Daeron, who was used to the beechwoods of Neldoreth, carefully maintained and kept free of overmuch undergrowth to permit the passage of deer and facilitate the hunt, the going through the tangled, dim-lit forest was rougher than he had ever experienced, even in the lands he had crossed between Ered Luin and Hithaeglir, even between those and the Great River. This was truly a wild place where wild Elves and other creatures lived; but Ilwe walked as easily and unconcernedly as on a paved road.

She smiled once again. 

"Your silences too are most eloquent, grandchild of Elmo."

He gasped.

"You know!"

Now she laughed at him : " Of course I know! Ours was hardly a chance meeting. As soon as I had word of your disappearance from Doriath and passing over the Mountains, I had my scouts tracking you."

"Word…from whom?" he asked, though he was fairly certain of the answer. And still it surprised him.

"From the Khazad, of course – the Dwarves. They alone are admitted nowadays into your land, for their smithcraft, and they return to their Under-the Mountain realms of Belegost and Nogrod and Khazad-Dum, he Dwarrowdelf, laden with pearls and news of the western lands! To us they turn for venison and leather and other things the forest provides. These we barter for steel arrowheads and long white knives and light mail; and they grow an exceedingly tasty sort of mushroom in their caverns all year round, a delicacy we add to our own autumn crops. I shall not say that we are friends. We are however of mutual service to one another; and they will warn the Wandering Companies of what passes in the lands they travel to and through."

There was a pause during which she waited for the inevitable question that yet he was reluctant to ask. 

But then he drew a deep breath, drinking in courage with the mossy wetness of the morning air. 

"Do you know everything? Do you know… " he hesitated, " Of Elmo?"

There was a small patch of sunlight at their feet, where fern had grown tall an now stood dead in a shroud of dew, and she stopped, and reached, cupping her hands as if to catch the rays like water from a fountain. At length she spoke : "Elmo was my dearest friend. Our hearts were closer than I have ever been with any other, save my brother Iluve; and I felt the moment of his death. I mourn him. He had a dream, an impossible dream, perhaps, yet it was a valuable one and cherished by me and my people for his dear sake. Oldelves roam the regions between River and Lake. Oldelves, I say, for we remain true to what we were at the Awakening. We do not spurn novelty where it aids us (or we would not welcome the Dwarves!) but free, free are we as we were before the Call. This is our home. Ever we travel, hunter-gatherers that we are, in small groups swift and silent and keeping to the shadows. Rarely are we troubled by the creatures that multiplied in the quiet years of starlight and grown strong with the return of Melkor. We have faced them before and survived; and we are still here. Orcs do not seek us out, for if they are aware of our existence at all, to them we are but small pickings and of little sport. They feast on destruction: what is there to enjoy when there is nothing to destroy? We build no cities or palaces fair, nor do we collect gems and gold. The greatest of all treasures is ours, yet it is one they can never seize."

Smilingly she looked upon him in his bewilderment and added: "Can you not guess my meaning? Ah, if you lived among us, if only for a little while, you might perhaps learn. You are welcome to do so, child of Elmo's blood. Winter approaches and the Wandering Companies of the forest that have Elflings in their number will draw together to our camp on Amon Lanc,***** where we have a most defensible stronghold, there to pass the Cold Moons. If they agree, you can stay."

He marvelled at her words.

"Are you not their Lady, will they not obey your command?"

Like a sudden cloud before Sun or Moon, so altered her expression.

"They choose to follow me. They do not take commands." she answered abruptly, " I am not Elwe – Thingol as he calls himself now. I crave no throne nor do I surround myself with servants. My people know me. They seek my counsel, and if they deem it wise, they will heed it. Or they may ignore it: they are free to make their own mistakes, and I too may be mistaken. My warriors and I assure the safety of our camp. To that end, come autumn, we patrol the riverbank and the forest around. There is little that passes under leaf or bough that I do not hear about, nay, nor in the vast plains between Forest and Lake, the place of our Awakening. Lenwe of old, Lord of the Nandor, was friend to us and would tell me much of what passed in his domain. Together we kept the land East of the Mountains, Rhovannion or Wilderland as you name it, acceptably safe during the Ages of the Stars. Yet Denethor his son flew before the peril of the Enemy,when it reappeared, taking many of his people to Beleriand, where he presumed he would be safe under the protection of Thingol. I hear he is dead now. So are most of his people. "

She swivelled round to face him and said : "So Oropher told me. That is what you wished to know, isn't it? The son of my oldest , dearest friend has ever been my source of information on your kind. His father's messenger to me he was when Elmo still led the Eglath, and his sister Orowen too…"

"My mother! She never said."

"Naturally not. Elwe and I did not part in friendship, and he would not be best pleased to learn hat his kin at times came east to the abhorred 'Darkelves'. When he became Greymantle Orowen stopped coming, but Oropher continued, though it has been a long time since his last visit. Some Laiquendi, survivors of the battle in which Denethor fell, fighting to protect the King he thought would protect him, came back East, telling of how Thingol's domain is now encircled by mighty spells, preventing all to get in or out. That would account for Oropher's failure to come."

"Greenelves! I thought they had all either perished or sought the security of Doriath."

"Living among your kind would imply assimilation and the abandonment of their own ways. Not everyone is willing to do so, even if it might seem the wisest course to take. No, they have since joined up with the remainder of Lenwe's Nandor, and founded a realm of their own, in the woodlands between Mountains and River: a very fair place indeed they have made it. Lorinand, they call it, or Laurelindorenan. A scattered folk no more they have chosen a King to lead them, a wise Elf who must be known to you, for he is a Sinda, from Beleriand, who, cut off from his folk at the time the Girdle was installed, saw no other option but to go East. Amdir** is his name. Ah yes, they do return to us, they do return…"

"That was the Dream my grandsire cherished." 

"It is the Dream he died for." said Ilwe. 

She moved out of the light and sped into the shadows. He ran after her. Denser and darker the forest became, the path – if path it was- narrow and winding in and out among the trees that leant together, high and old and strangled with ivy and hung with lichen. Occasionally a slender beam of sun-or, as day flowed into night, moonlight, would slip in through some opening in the branches and the blackened leaves that had not fallen yet, and the mesh of boughs up high, stabbing down thin and bright before them. But this was seldom, and it soon ceased altogether. Black squirrels would whisk past them, scuttling behind tree trunks, their soft patter adding to the other woodland noises: grunts and scufflings and hurryings in the undergrowth, and among the leaves that lay piled endlessly thick in places on the forest-floor. At night they could see gleams in the darkness around that were not stars but pairs of yellow or red or green eyes staring at them from a little distance, and then slowly fade and disappear and shine out again in another place, or down from the branches just above, pale and bulbous.

These were the giant spiders, the hideous brood of Ungoliant the Maia. 

She had long ago descended from the darkness that lies about Arda, as one corrupted into the service of Melkor. But she had disowned her Master, desiring to be Mistress of her own lust, taking all things to herself to feed her emptiness; and long she dwelled in the uncharted south of Aman, in Avathar, where in a ravine she lived, shaped as a spider of monstrous form, weaving her black webs in a cleft of the mountains. There she sucked up all light that she could find, and spun it forth again in dark nets of strangling gloom, until no light more could come to her abode; and she was famished. There Melkor had sought her out and together they plotted his revenge against the Valar: and that had been the poisoning of the Trees. While on their flight from Aman to the remains of Melkor's ancient stronghold of Angband, they had come to quarrel over the spoils of their crime, and Melkor had been forced to feed her the jewels he had stolen from Feanor's hoard in Formenos. Yet he would not surrender to her the Silmarils; and he called forth the Balrogs slumbering still in the vaults of deep forgotten places amidst the ruins of Angband, to which the Valar in the haste of their assault had not descended; and with their whips of flame they smote asunder the webs of Ungoliant, and she quailed , and turned to flight belching black vapours to cover her; and fleeing from the North she went down into Beleriand and dwelt beneath Ered Gorgoroth, in that dark valley that was after called Nan Dungortheb, the Valley of the Dreadful Death, because of the horror that she bred there. For other foul creatures of spider form had dwelt their since the days of the delving of Angband, and she mated with them and devoured them, and even after Ungoliant herself departed and went whither she would into the south of the World, her offspring abode there and wove their horrendous webs; and many had passed over the Hithaeglir into the Wild Woods beyond. By daylight they did not show themselves, hiding themselves, and only thick cobwebs stretching from tree to tree told of their presence. 

"Their hunger is insatiable!" Ilwe told him, " Beware the Elf that walks the woods alone and unwary! We hunt them without mercy."

She had proven her words by blowing darts at the lights, that would go out, and she showed him the corpses: thick, spiky, bloated bodies with many legs, now lying on their backs, some twitching still, but most dead.

"They breed too fast for us to eradicate them all: I fear that we will never be fully rid of them. Yet they are cowardly creatures, and, though cunning, of little sense. They know not how to attack us in ordered numbers, to our great fortune. If someone were to lead them, then I would be worried." 

Who that someone would be, she left unspoken, but he knew she meant Morgoth, the Enemy of them all. No matter how sundered the Avari were from the Sindar and the Noldor, on this they all agreed; and he felt compelled to admit to himself that Ilwe's folk dealt far better with the threat of Morgoth than he would have thought possible for a people he had hitherto considered to be primitive and savage, if not downright Orcish.

Neither the presence of the spiders nor the menace of the Enemy seemed to inspire Ilwe with the terror they did him. He began to believe the old stories that told of her journey into the depths of Utumno, yet he dared not ask the truth of it, anymore than he dared reveal his own kind's conviction that Orcs were Avari.

While they continued their road he became more and more convinced that Ilwe herself was happy to let the Sindar believe this.

He, however, she led on a voyage of discovery into a land and a way of life he had never imagined, down to the beginnings of his kind. Yet far from primitive the Avari were, and he fell from amazement into astonishment when he found out (not without some pride) that they actually used his Cirth, so spurned by his own folk.

Occasionally along their path his attention would be drawn by the tinkling of wind-chimes, many of metal but most made of wood, hung from tree to tree. "Evil creatures cannot abide the sound." Ilwe explained, "It is our own version of the Girdle. They mark the open spaces in the forest where the Wandering Companies abide at times." Messages were left behind, written on thin parchment rolled up and inserted into metal tubes, that were tied to branches on marked spots. "In the past we used leather strips and an intricate code of knots and bows and colours and beads to communicate. Our friends the Dwarves taught us your runes, and we make good and grateful use of them. They enable us to pass on information to our kin beyond the eastern boundaries of the forest." 

And she told him of the great plains where large numbers of Avari lived herding sheep and riding the great wild horses, the Maeras, an art they taught the first men, just as they taught them music and ironwork and more besides, before they moved west. "Further east still lies Cuivienen, home to the Lake-elves, whose domain contains also the wild rivers Carnen and Celduin. So great is Cuivienen that Men think it a sea, and as it is the place of our Awakening, so do we consider it still, and she-elves that are with child will travel hence to give birth. A great floating city is build upon its waters, growing and diminishing at will, for the Lake-Elves have their own Wandering Companies, and at times detach the rafts that are their homes from the city to sail wither they will.

When _ethuil _****** is in the air, they often come to the Long Lake in the North, that is dominated by a lone mountain, and we of the forest join them for a festival of kinship. Then is the time of mirth and merry-making and companionship and love. With the return of the Orcs fewer dare to undertake the journey, and so perforce we more and more often exchange written messages. " 

"Why not use birds? Many speak our tongue." he wondered. 

"I do not trust in them." Ilwe replied, and her voice took on the dark tone it always got when speaking of the Valar, so he had noticed : " They are singled out amongst the Kelvar****** for that, and the Eagles especially serve Manwe. I do not like it."

He did not pursue the matter.

As they drew closer to Amon Lanc, a change came over the forest. It was a gradual change, marked by a growing green freshness of the air and a general openness; and the wind blew free and the sun shone through and even the black squirrels seemed less furtive. No longer did they encounter spiders, though Ilwe used her blowpipe still, to hunt rabbits; and soon her belt and bandolier was heavy with soft, plump, dangling bodies.

"These will make a feast for us, and a warm bonnet for an Elfling!" she laughed, and added, a little wryly : " The coming of Days and the Seasons has altered our lives considerably. The World used to be subject to to Time without notice : there was only starlight. But now the World moves both very swift and very slow to us Elves. Slow, because we do not count the running years for ourselves; swift, because we change little and all else fleets by. The passing seasons may seem but ripples ever repeated in the long, long stream, yet hey are not so for other beings, both Kelvar and Olvar.****** Creatures of the wild that were used to the twilight life went either blind mad with fear or both on the First Day. Oh, the ever growing light! Where before there was but a soft glow of stars, a gentle passing from fading into stirring , the _coronar ****** _disrupted the lives of many, who either adapted or died. "

He opened his mouth to interrupt, yet she forestalled him.

"I know, you have seen it happen too. I tell you this because many of us are still angry because of it; not so much that it happened, but that it was done without warning, without at least consulting us. For the Valar will fashion the World as they see fit, and those who are subject to the World have but to comply. We are named the Unwilling, and so we are: in more than one sense. You'll not hear Songs of Praise to the Valar among us, nor will my people welcome any such songs from you, I must warn you; perhaps only in praise of Elbereth, who she kindled the Stars that caused our Awakening."

"I am beginning to wonder whether I might be welcome at all." he answered sourly, and immediately regretted his outburst; but Ilwe laughed. 

"Ah, grandchild of Elmo, you at least say what you truly think out loud. That is good."

"Then, if you permit, I will say that there is little of Elmo in me. If you extend your friendship to me for my grandsire's sake, you may be making a mistake. I am Daeron."

"And is being Daeron such a bad thing?

"I have told you what I have done."

"Which you regret, and have made full confession of: not many would have that courage. There is more to you than the things you have done, there is also the core of your being."

She smiled at him and her eyes shone.

"You are whom you are, both the good and the bad, beholden to no one. Between River and Lake that is what we Avari are, and how we live. It goes beyond Elmo's dream. All Elves should be Free Spirits. That dream is mine."

__

To be continued

Authors notes:

As before, much of this chapter is (sometimes literally) derived from the Silmarillion and the Hobbit. The words Ilwe speaks of how Elves perceive time are echoed by Legolas in LOTR, FotR : The Great River.

*: Auriel, Nimlas, Orowen and Ithilred are names of my invention. 

** Galadhon is mentioned in 'Unfinished Tales' as being the son of Elmo and father of Celeborn. I have kept the last, but for thereasons I have stated in the appendix between chapters 3 and 4, I have made him husband to Elmo's daughter. Ithilbor is father to Saeros , cousin to Daeron (according to the Silmarillion. Obviously, if Daeron is bloodrelation to Thingol and a daughter's son, his kinship to Saeros goes via their fathers, hence Ithilred (see appendix and also family-tree below) Eol once again is kinsman to Thingol according to the Silmarillion. Given that his character is very like Saeros's, I make him his elder brother. Therefore, kin by marriage, not blood.

Amdir: in 'Unfinished Tales', father to Amroth. I find it more likely that he was a wandering Sinda cut off from his kin at the instalment of the Girdle, than that he is yet another relation of Thingol or a son of Celeborn and Galadrie, or that Amroth is.

*** Elfling: a word of my invention,(inspired by: Dark Crystal) signifying Elf-child or youth

**** All Daeron could know at this time was that Eol had disappeared in search of his wife Aredhel and son Maglin, who had fled to Gondolin. Naturally, he would assume Eol remained in the hidden kingdom, as no one is allowed either in or out anyway. (see: The Silmarillion, chapter 16)

*****Amon Lanc is what later became Dol Guldur. Oropher used to live there for a while after he came east (see chapter 3, also 'Unfinished Tales')

****** ethuil : spring (see also : LOTR appendix D the Calendars)

****** Kelvar and Olvar : animals and plants

****** Coronar : the Sun-round or year (see also : LOTR appendix D) Naturally a sudden switch from eternal starlight to day and night and marked seasons would have upset nature extremely. 

I've worked out Elmo's family tree (any ideas on how to put it on the net?)and it makes Luthien cousin to Nimlas, Orowen, Oropher and Earwen, Dior second cousin to Celeborn, Galadithil, Daeron, Thranduil and Galadriel (and her brothers), Elwing cousin three times removed to Celebrian, Nimloth and Legolas. Complicated, eh? 

Further chapters will be few and far between as I am concentrating on my other fics. 

Preview: the story will cover different periods. The first three chapters deal with one period, the next block will cover the Luthien episode until the end of the War of Wrath, the third block will cast its light on the forging of the Rings to the end of the Second Age and the last one will run from the period of The Hobbit till the sailing of the Last Ship. Main characters apart from Ilwe will be Daeron (2), Oropher, Celeborn and Galadhriel (3) and Thranduil and Legolas (4).


End file.
